


A Far Cry From Where We Were

by Superwho_Scribblings (PrepareToBeMildlyEntertained)



Series: Henry Verse [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angels, Angst, Bunker Fic, Canon Divergent, Case Fic, Character Death, Demons, Drama, Fallen Angels, Family, Heaven, M/M, Men of Letters, Original Characters - Freeform, Part 2, Post Season 8, Reunion, Romance, Torture, supernatural books
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2014-03-04
Packaged: 2018-01-06 03:21:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 60,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1101794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrepareToBeMildlyEntertained/pseuds/Superwho_Scribblings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Henry's been with his grandsons for a while now, but things aren't exactly perfect. Sam is still knocked out from the trials, Cas is MIA, Kevin and Charlie can't seem to get a handle on the damn alarms in the bunker, oh, and the King of Hell is in their dungeon. Perfect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Will Face the Sun

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to part 2! I'm much more excited about this part than I was about part 1 so I hope you enjoy it. Please subscribe and comment, I'd really appreciate it. This first chapter is a bit short, but I wanted to leave you all with a good ending. Oh, and Merry Christmas!

Yet again, Henry was awoken by the sounds of alarms blaring from what Dean had dubbed “The War Room”. Henry groaned and put a pillow over his head, willing Kevin to get in there and turn the damn things off already. After another loud 30 seconds, they did stop and Henry tried to release some of the tension in his shoulders.

He had woken up like this every day for the past two weeks and, to be honest, while it was never really a charming way to wake up, it was getting worse by the day. As hard as Kevin was working, and even after help from Charlie, they couldn’t get the alarms to stop going off or even to be slightly less loud.

The best they could figure, currently, was that they went off whenever one of the fallen angels used their powers in any way, and also every day at 8:27 am. They couldn’t figure that one out. Henry had been searching the Men of Letter’s records every day for any sort of explanation but nothing yet. Just those god-awful alarms every single morning that took about a minute and a half to turn off. Henry heard the door to the room across from his – Dean’s – creak followed by a voice grumbling. No one was happy in the morning here in The Batcave.

Henry sighed and rolled out of bed, his feet hitting the cold floor with a sharp slap. He grabbed a pair of jeans off a chair and slid them on over his boxers, stretching his worn muscles as he went. He cracked the bones in his neck and rolled his shoulders again before finally walking out of his room and down to the kitchen.

Dean was already there, making a large pot of coffee. He was wearing his favorite robe and a pair of boxers, along with a loose, gray T-shirt. He had only just rolled out of bed and had probably sleepwalked most of his way into the kitchen. Kevin stumbled in next, still in the clothes he had been wearing the day before. Dean walked over to the table and handed each of them a mug without saying anything.

“Thanks,” Henry said. Dean grunted and took a sip. They all sat in silence for a few more minutes, only sipping at their mugs. Dean finished first and filled up another mugful but apparently decided that he was now awake enough to make breakfast. He walked to the fridge and found a box of eggs which he sat on the counter. Next came the package of bacon. He closed the fridge and snatched a bag of bread from its place on the counter. Henry always liked watching Dean’s sense of belonging when he cooked. He just looked so… right putting meals together.

And, what’s more, he didn’t make it look in any way housewife-y. He looked so Dean, still strong and powerful and sure of himself, just using his arms to beat eggs instead of the creatures of hell. He could cook five things all at once and Henry had never seen anything burn. He took his skill for strategic planning and applied it to working with different cooking times. Before Henry knew it, Dean was sliding eggs onto plates, forking bacon on next to them, and pulling out browned slices of bread easily from the toaster. At the same time, frozen strawberries and slices of banana were thrown into a blender, along with some orange juice. They were puréed in seconds and poured into a cup, a straw thrown in to finish. The plates of food were slid across the island to Henry and Kevin, but the cup stayed with Dean when he left the kitchen and headed down the hall.

“Do you know how he’s doing?” Kevin asked, breaking the relative silence of the morning. Henry shook his head.

“About the same,” he said. Dean returned to the kitchen about ten minutes later and made his own plate of breakfast. No one spoke. This was the morning routine. Same thing every day for almost the entire past two weeks. Henry would usually look in on Sam once in the afternoon and once before he went to bed, but nothing every changed. Sam was almost always sleeping and the only one who ever saw him awake was Dean.

First it had been a nightmare. It was two days after the angels fell, at four in the morning. Henry was trying to sleep off that day’s constant annoying alarm blares when a scream ripped through the hallway. Henry sat straight up and looked out his door. They always kept their doors open now. He saw Dean shoot past the doorway and heard a quiet, “I’ll take care of it,” and then Dean, Henry assumed, went into Sam’s room.

Henry still made himself get up, despite Dean’s words, but in the two minutes it took him to roll out of his bed and stumble down to Sam’s room, the boy’s eyes were already closed. Dean was rubbing his hands up and down Sam’s arms and whispering to him softly.

“You’re ok, Sammy. I got you. Please wake up.” He sounded broken and Henry, for some reason unknown to him, decided to come forward and put his own hands firmly on both of Dean’s shoulders. Dean first stiffened against the contact and Henry worried that he would try to get away or, worse, that he would yell at Henry to make himself feel better, but he didn’t do either. He just slowly went from stiff to falling apart until Henry felt him starting to shake beneath his hands.

“He’ll wake up,” Henry said, rubbing his hands over Dean’s shoulders, “And Cas will come back. He always does.” They had both sat there for a while longer until Dean stood up, sniffed, put a hand on Henry’s shoulder for a second, and then walked out.

Since that night, Henry had heard Sam wake from nightmares two other times but in both instances, by the time he got there, Sam was asleep again with Dean watching over him.

Now, Henry just wanted his grandson to get better already. He knew that was where all of Dean’s focus was. Henry could tell he was terrified about the angels falling and what it meant for Cas but he was so far gone in the world of fixing Sam that it was tearing him apart. They researched constantly to find any sort of method for making him even the tiniest bit better, but nothing. Not to mention trying to deal with the piece of hell-spawn in the dungeon. In two weeks, they still hadn’t really figured that one out. All Henry knew was that it was his turn to go down and deal with him.

Henry scraped the last egg out of the pan and grabbed the last two slices of toast, putting both on a paper plate, before heading down the long hallway. Room 7B lay before him and he steeled his shoulders before unlocking the huge door and shoving it open. Crowley was in the exact same suit as he had been the entire time Henry had known him. He was slightly cleaned up from the events of the church, not quite so covered in blood and dirt, but he wasn’t in pristine condition by any definition.

“Henry,” Crowley greeted. He hadn’t once taken on that harsh tone Henry had heard on the phone two weeks ago. He was always calm and polite, even though Dean said he hadn’t really changed that much. The demon even claimed he was on good standings with “Moose” but with the younger Winchester still asleep, the bunker inhabitants weren’t inclined to believe him.

“Breakfast,” Henry said, holding up the plate. He went to the center of the room and stopped in front of Crowley’s chair, stiff and uncomfortable, though the demon never complained. Henry used his free hand to reach over to the left and grab the side table they had placed in the dungeon just for meals. He put it down in front of Crowley and placed the plate on top of it before moving back a couple of feet and crossing his arms. “Eat up,” he said. Crowley readily did so.

“How is our Moose?” he asked when he had finished off the plate. He almost inhaled the breakfast food. If there was anyone who was a fan of Dean’s cooking, it was definitely Crowley.

“The same,” Henry said. He didn’t trust the King of Hell, not by a long shot, but his attitudes over the past days had given Henry enough reason to believe he deserved the truth, at least about Sam. And, though Henry wouldn’t admit it, there was the smallest part of him that hoped that if Crowley knew everything there was to know about Sam’s condition, he might be able to help. It was a foolish hope, but he stuck to it. He went over to Crowley and grabbed the empty plate, moving the side table over to the right again.

“Lunch, same place?” Crowley asked, though the joking tone on his voice didn’t reach his eyes. Henry just walked out of the room and closed the heavy door behind him. He was the nicest to Crowley of everyone in the bunker, but he wasn’t going to be friends with the demon. The demon that had put his grandsons through hell. Well, not hell, he supposed, as his grandsons had both already been. He had finished reading the final Supernatural book, Swan Song, about a week ago. He had even gotten up the nerve to ask Dean what happened afterwards. He received quick, economical answers, no feelings on the matter. It had been like Dean was telling a story about someone else’s life, but it had filled in Henry enough.

He still had no idea what happened with Castiel after the final book, though, because Dean outright refused to talk about him. Ever. The barest mention of the angel would earn you a death glare to end all death glares from Dean so everyone just refrained from mentioning him. The fact that they hadn’t heard from him was obviously weighing on Dean’s mind, but Henry tried to focus on Sam’s words, that Cas always came back. He always did.

Henry wandered back into the kitchen and dumped Crowley’s paper plate into the garbage can. The room was empty again when he walked in but Dean came in after a couple of minutes.

“Let’s train you up for an hour,” the eldest Winchester said. He was wearing his day clothes now, some roughed up jeans and a grey Henley pushed up to his elbows.

“Alright,” Henry said, following Dean out of the kitchen and down to the sparing room they had found. It was a fairly wide open space, plenty of ground to work with for hand-to-hand combat, but the walls were lined with all sorts of weapons that could also be trained with. Swords, knives, guns, boxing gloves, and even a few less useful items. It had become Dean’s favorite room in the bunker, a way to release his tensions by pounding everything in the room to a pulp. He and Henry had been training together since the third day after the angels fell. Dean figured it was time Henry “learned to be a hunter too,” and made it his goal in life to get Henry ready. He even claimed he was about ready to let Henry come out on a hunt with him.

Henry knew that Dean was going crazy stuck inside the bunker. He had no backup, which meant that, as much as he wanted to, he shouldn’t be hunting. The argument that had followed Dean trying to hunt on his own had been impressively loud, but Henry got his way. No solo hunts. Actually, if he thought about it, the only reason Dean was probably training him was so that he could go out on hunts again. But Henry was willing to take it. Training was training, no matter the reasons behind it.

Dean walked to the middle of the room and took his position. He turned to Henry and indicated for him to come forward. Henry knew the routine now. He was actually pretty good. He walked forward carefully, never dropping his eyes from Dean’s. They were within feet of each other when Dean struck out. His right arm shot forward to catch Henry’s shoulder and Henry blocked it easily with a jab to Dean’s wrist and a swift punch aimed at his side. Dean avoided the side swipe, jumping quickly, and his hands were back up.

The fists went more quickly after that. He swiped at either side of Henry, trying to force his way in. Punch, block, punch, block, over and over. Finally Henry got around the back and used his foot to hook Dean’s leg, kicking him to the ground. Before Dean could regain his footing, Henry grabbed his right arm and pulled it up tight behind his back, forcing his own body weight down on Dean, who grunted in pain. Dean shifted around trying to get up but nothing he did could move Henry. Finally he let out a breath and released his muscles.

“Alright, fine, I’m down,” Dean grunted. Henry released his arm and quickly stood up, dusting off his pants a bit. He tried not to grin. This was the first time he had beaten Dean. The older Winchester stood up, rolling his right shoulder. “Not bad, Henry,” he said. Henry smiled proudly.

“Thank you.” Dean rolled his shoulder again and then looked at Henry like he was contemplating something.

“Henry,” he started, looked like he was about to reconsider, and then shook his head, “Henry, I want you to come out on a hunt I found.” He said quickly, like he wouldn’t get it out otherwise. Henry’s proud smile faltered.

“Really? You want me to come?”

“Look, you’ve been training for a while, you’re good, and I need to get out of this fucking bunker, like, a week ago. I say you should come,” Dean said. Henry mulled it over for a second.

“What is the hunt?”

 

* * *

 

 

Henry held the gun up in front of him as he moved from one room to the next. The house was dark as pitch but Henry knew he couldn’t turn on any lights. He was more than annoyed that Dean had taken their only flashlight with them when he demanded they split up to search. It was supposed to have been a fairly simple salt and burn, just something to get Henry started, but apparently the damn ghost had left some DNA behind in the house before she died.

So now Henry was searching a black house for a locket that supposedly contained a lock of the dead woman’s hair and he was alone. He checked around one doorframe before stepping into the empty bedroom. He walked over to the dresser first, tucking his gun into the back of his pants before opening the first drawer. He moved clothing aside quickly and felt along the bottom for the tell-tale metallic chill of a locket chain. Nothing. He closed the top drawer and moved onto the next.

After deciding the dresser was a bust he moved around the room to the side tables. He pulled open the drawers to find nothing but books and pens in both. The tops had nothing but lamps and one glass about half full of water. Henry made an annoyed noise deep in his throat and grabbed his gun, putting it up in front of him again. Bedroom: nothing. He tried to think about where else to look. He didn’t want to call Dean, who was busy trying to protect the person the ghost was after. They had found out who the ghost was trying to kill fairly quickly, after talking to the husband, Mr. Waverton. He had been cheating on his wife when she died. By now, Mr. Waverton was dead (Henry wasn’t sure he felt totally horrible about that one) but the mistress, Alexis, was the next target.

So now Dean was putting her in a salt circle and trying not to kill her for the incessant crying she was doing. But Henry wouldn’t call him. He needed to do this one on his own. This was his first time out and he wasn’t going to be a baby about it. He decided to go check back in the living room for the locket. Women sometimes took off their jewelry while they sat in front of the TV, right? Henry sighed and started making his way down the stairs.

The living room was slightly more lit up, with the yellow glimmer of the street light showing through the windows. Henry crept along, gun up, looking for any obvious places Mrs. Waverton might have put her locket. He checked the tables around the living room, he checked along the bookcases, and even opened a few of the decorative boxes that were mixed in between the books, but he found nothing.

“Dammit,” Henry ground out. He wasn’t going to fuck this up; he was not going to let himself fuck this up. Where else was there even to look? He’d gone over the entire house twice by now. He was just waiting for Dean to call him now, complaining that he was still trying to keep the crazy ghost lady off of Alexis. He decided to go into the kitchen again just to feel like he was doing something. He walked past the plush living room couches and walked through the open doorway that led to the kitchen, forgetting to clear the door as he did.

Suddenly, Henry was whipped down onto his back, his gun flying out of his hands. A flash of blond hair slid across his vision as he tried to get his breath back. He groaned loudly as he tried to get up and a foot knocked him down again. The foot was actually a heavy boot, situated firmly in the middle of his chest. The weight hurt quite a bit, when Henry thought about it, especially considering he was still having a hard time breathing right. He finally did look up to see who was on top of him.

The woman had long blond hair, slightly curled, and was pointing a gun at Henry’s face. Not even Henry’s gun, she had her own. What kind of woman was this, able to knock Henry over like that so quickly and she carried around her own (really big) gun?

“Who?” Henry got out. He started coughing.

“You first,” the woman said. She cocked the gun to make her point. Henry sucked in a breath.

“I’m Henry,” he said. She pushed down on his chest more.

“And what are you doing here?” She asked.

“Looking for a locket,” Henry admitted. He accepted the fact that telling the scary woman with the gun the truth was probably the best plan, whether she believed him or not. Apparently he was right, though, because her look of shock and momentary release of pressure on his chest was enough for Henry to shove her weight off and roll over to grab his gun. He turned back around to have the woman’s gun in his face again.

“Not fast enough,” she said, smiling. “Are you a hunter?” Henry looked up at her in surprise.

“How did you know?” He asked. She chuckled and put her gun down, offering Henry a hand. He took it reluctantly and stood up, rubbing a hand over his sure to be bruised chest. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a silver locket.

“I think we’re here for the same ghost,” she said. Henry looked at the locket and then back at the woman. He took a moment to get appropriately upset.

“Why haven’t you burned the hair yet?” he demanded. She faltered.

“I was about to when I heard you down here fumbling around and I got distracted,” she said.

“Well, my partner is going to be so glad you decided to drag your feet,” Henry said, grabbing for the locket. “He’s holed up with the mistress the ghost is after in a salt circle.” He rolled his eyes, clicking open the locket. He went to grab for his lighter and found the woman already handing him one. He grabbed it with an annoyed glance and lit the hair without another word. It went up fast and Henry quickly dropped the locket into the nearest garbage can. He felt his phone buzz in his pocket and pulled it out, answering.

“Nice job,” Dean’s voice said from the other end before Henry could say anything.

“She’s gone?” he asked. The woman was looking at him firmly for confirmation.

“Yup, she went up like a fucking roman candle,” Dean said, “and Lexi here is safe as safe can be.” Henry thought he heard a woman’s voice sob out a soft ‘fuck you’ at the other end but he couldn’t be sure. “Meet at the car?”

“Absolutely,” Henry said. “Oh, and I’m bringing someone with me. I ran into another hunter while I was here.” He gave a hard look to the woman. She gave him an annoyed glance and nodded.

“Another hunter?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, we’ll both be there in a bit.” He hung up the phone without waiting for an answer.

“Sorry for stalling on the hair,” the woman said, “I didn’t know about the mistress.”

“Then how in the hell did you know about the locket?” Henry asked. He tucked his gun in the back of his pants and started moving towards the front door, the woman not far behind him.

“I talked to the husband a couple days ago,” she said. “I was just waiting for him to get out of the house. I didn’t think he was in danger, and then when he died… I figured the ghost would just be wandering around without any sort of purpose so I didn’t see that much of a rush.”

“There’s always a rush,” Henry grumbled.

“I know,” the woman said, “I’m just out of practice. It has been a long time since I’ve hunted.” Henry looked back at her, trying to gauge her age. She didn’t look old at all, but the way she said ‘a long time’ made it sound like decades had passed. They walked out of the house together, closing the door behind them. The street was only lit up by two streetlights, both glowing yellow. They walked quietly down the road, neither one talking as they went. Then they both seemed to feel awkward about the silence at the same time.

“So,” Henry said.

“Hey,” the woman started at the same time. They both laughed nervously and Henry gestured to the woman to continue. “Can I ask about your partner?” She said. Henry faced forward for a moment, thinking.

“We’re family,” he said. “He’s an amazing hunter, best I know. Why the interest?” The woman shrugged.

“I’ve just been looking for a pair of hunters,” she said. “But there is a lot of space to cover. And hunters aren’t really easy to track.” Henry grunted to agree.

“I wish you luck,” he said. He looked up to see the Impala, with the trunk open. “Oh, here we are.” He jogged forward a bit and looked back at the woman. She was stopped dead in her tracks, looking at the Impala with wonder. Her eyes were wet. “Hey, are you ok?” He asked, taking a step towards her.

“Henry, that you?” Dean called from the trunk. “What took you so damn long with that locket? I was starting to think you were dead and how was I going to explain that to Kevin when you mean so much to him?” Dean chuckled at himself and Henry heard the loud sound of what he thought was probably Dean’s duffle hitting the bottom of the trunk.

“There was a mix up about whose hunt this was, apparently,” Henry answered. The woman’s head had snapped to stare at the trunk as soon as Dean had started talking and she still hadn’t moved. “Are you alright?” He asked, reaching out a hand to her. She didn’t look at him.

“Yeah, I’m fine, no thanks to you dragging your feet,” Dean said, and slammed the trunk. He turned to look at Henry and his good-natured smile fell from his face like someone had thrown a bucket on him.

“Dean,” the woman got out. She sounded like she was choking. She took a step forward. Henry turned to her.

“You know him?” he looked back at Dean, who still looked like he was going to fall apart right then. He swallowed.

“Mom?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Crazy Circles by Bad Company


	2. Without Love, Where Would You Be Now?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another family reunion, a bit of chef!Dean, and even more adventures with Charlie. Man, when did this bunker start getting so crowded?

“Mom?” Henry asked incredulously. He looked at the woman – Mary? – for a second and then turned back to face his grandson.

“Henry, what the fuck is going on?” Dean asked. He opened the trunk again, but kept leaning around to look at his mother. He pulled out two bottles and a knife. “Where did you find her?”

“She was the other hunter,” Henry said, “the one who was after the same ghost.”

“Henry, back away from it,” Dean said, coming closer.

“Dean,” Mary started.

“Sorry, bitch, but my mom died a long time ago,” Dean came forward until he was within a couple feet of her. He splashed her with holy water first. Mary took a sucking breath in at the cold water. “Not a demon,” Dean said.

“Dean, it’s me,” Mary said. “I swear.” Dean splashed her with the next bottle.

“Not Leviathan,” he grunted.

“Dean, please,” Mary said. He held out a knife to her.

“Silver knife. Cut your arm with it and let me see you do it,” he said. Henry was so close to walking over and putting his hand on Dean. The hunter just sounded broken as he barked out orders to this thing that looked like his mom. Mary looked like she was trying not to cry, though she must have understood why Dean was doing the things he was doing. She couldn’t have honestly expected him to just believe. She took the knife from Dean and rolled up her sleeve (a plaid shirt, Henry noted with a small laugh) and put the blade to her skin. She looked at Dean as she ran the blade along the inside of her arm, blood flowing out. She stuck her arm out towards Dean. She never stopped looking at him and he never stopped looking at her arm.

“Dean, it’s me,” she said softly. “It’s me.” Dean looked up at her, his eyes wide open and full of tears.

“Mom?” his voice wavered. He looked at her, trying to just memorize exactly what she looked like before looking back up into her eyes. Then he took his last step forward and pulled her into a hug that Henry was sure must be crushing her back, but when he looked at Mary’s face, she was smiling and crying.

“Dean, my Dean,” she said, grabbing him tightly. “I found you.”

 

* * *

 

 

The Impala was quieter than Henry thought it would be. He assumed Dean would want to talk to his mother as much as possible, but now it looked more like Dean really had no idea of how to do that. He had never known his mother as an adult, Henry supposed, so how could he? Henry sat in the backseat glancing between the two of them warily as they sped down the highway. Mary couldn’t take her eyes off of Dean. She smiled the whole time, more than happy to just be in his presence. As they got closer to the bunker, Henry cleared his throat.

“Um, Dean,” he said, “I think it might be a good idea to tell Mary just what is to be expected when we get back.” He looked at Dean in the rearview mirror, trying to communicate with his eyes. _Tell her about Sam, dumbass. She needs to know._ Dean winced at him in the mirror and then looked away.

“Tell me what?” Mary asked. Her voice alone brought a smile from Dean again.

“I don’t know what Henry is—“

“Dean,” Henry interrupted. Dean sighed.

“Fine,” he said. He glanced at his mother warily. Her smile had fallen just the smallest bit. “It’s Sam. He’s really sick,” he said. Mary’s smile fell away.

“What?”

“Sick,” Henry said from the backseat, earning a glare from Dean. He held up his hands and sat back again, letting Dean speak.

“He, well, we were trying to do this, um, job,” Dean stumbled over his words and Henry rolled his eyes.

“For god’s sake, Dean,” he said. “Your boys were trying to slam the gates of hell for good. It was Sam’s job to do the trials. He didn’t finish the trials, which were making him sick, and now we can’t get him better.” Dean glared at him in the mirror. “Well, you weren’t going to tell her!” Henry shouted.

“How bad is he?” Mary asked, now much more agitated. She dragged her eyes all over Dean’s face trying to get a read on him. But she hadn’t really known her son as an adult any more than he knew her so she didn’t get much from the face searching.

“He’s bad,” Dean whispered. Mary choked on a quiet intake of breath and tried to get herself under control. “He’s really bad, Mom.” Mary’s head shot up at Dean’s tone and she rubbed her hand along his face.

“It will be fine,” she said, “You two always find a way.” Dean leaned into her touch, savoring her hand on his skin. It was sort of like when Cas had come back and Dean had done nothing but beg for contact. Dean’s phone started ringing madly from his pocket and Mary shot back, looking around. Dean chuckled and drew the phone out of his pocket, hitting answer and putting it up to his ear.

“Yeah?” Dean said. Henry heard Kevin’s hysterical voice on the other end but he couldn’t make out the words. “Woah, Kev, slow down. Wait, what?!” Dean’s whole posture shifted, making him sit straight up and he shoved down the gas pedal suddenly, throwing both Mary and Henry to the backs of their seats.

“Dean, what is it?” Henry asked.

“And he just disappeared?” Dean asked into the phone, “What about Sam, is he ok? Any change?” Mary looked at Dean with hope and confusion. He winced at the phone and shook his head at Mary. _No change._ Mary sunk down in her seat. “Well, did you at least get a good look at him? No, what are you talking about? We’re almost there. Kevin, don’t hang up! Kevin!” Dean gave out a frustrated yell and threw his phone into the backseat with Henry, leaning into the steering wheel.

“Dean, what the hell happened?” Henry asked, grasping for the phone.

“Kevin went in to check on Sam and someone was in the room,” Dean growled. He took a sharp turn up the dirt road, still pushing down hard on the pedal. Mary was holding on to the car door for dear life. “He had his hand on Sam’s forehead and when Kevin walked in he just smiled and disappeared.” Dean slammed on the breaks as he hit the top of the road, shooting everyone forward again. Henry slammed his shoulder on the front seat and groaned.

“Dean, calm down,” Henry said, trying to get out of the car. Even Mary was faster than he was. He wrenched the door open and got to Dean’s side, walking quickly around Mary. “Kevin said there was no change, right? He’s fine.”

“A guy appears in our bunker, our _top secret_ bunker, with a hand on my sick brother and then zaps out again?” Dean said, pulling the door to the bunker open and making his way down the stairs. “Sorry if I’m not praising the sky just yet.” Henry rolled his eyes. He heard Mary close the door behind him.

“Kevin?” Henry called around the War Room. No alarms were going off as of this moment, but that could change quickly. The prophet almost ran into them as he sprinted out of the kitchen, carrying a glass of water.

“Kevin, what the fuck?” Dean demanded, but Kevin didn’t answer, just made a noise and ran off down the hallway. Dean and Henry shared a glance and went after him. Mary stayed silent throughout the whole exchange. When they turned the corner, Henry was shocked to see Kevin dash into Sam’s room with the water. He heard Dean make an indistinct noise as he ran the rest of the way down the hall and into the room at the same time as Henry.

Sam was sitting up on the bed sipping the water Kevin gave him gratefully. He looked better than he had in months, healthy and bright. His hair didn’t look so wispy and his pallor was more even, not at all pale.

“Sam,” Henry said.

“Sammy,” Dean said at the same time, and they both rushed forward to pull the tall Winchester into a bear hug. Sam grunted as the force of both men hit him.

“Dean, Henry, I’m fine,” he said, laughing. Kevin took the water from him to avoid any spills. Sam glanced at the doorway and stopped laughing. He swallowed. Henry noticed Sam’s large hand go down to his other palm, squeezing the scar that cut across it. Henry had seen the habit before but never identified what it meant. “Dean,” Sam said, his voice shaking. Dean looked at him carefully, including a meaningful glance downward had his hands, and followed Sam’s sightline, eyes landing on Mary in the doorway, looking terrified. Dean gave her a small smile and gestured for her to come into the room.

“Sammy, you aren’t hallucinating,” Dean said, turning back to face him. “This isn’t the same thing. It really is her. It’s really Mom.” He grabbed onto Sam’s hand tightly and Henry made a decision to back away and give them a small amount of space. He looked up to see Kevin staring at Mary with his mouth wide open.

“Sam,” Mary said, stepping forward. Sam’s breath caught. He stood up with Dean hovering around him, making sure he didn’t fall.

“Mom?” Mary smiled widely and took a step forward, pulling Sam into a hug. Mary and Sam clung to each other for a while and Henry heard a sniffle coming from the head resting on Sam’s chest. Sam just had his eyes shut tightly, squeezing his mother firmly to him. Dean looked on from the side, smiling. Finally, they broke apart. Henry wasn’t surprised to see that Mary hadn’t been the only one sniffling.

“I don’t mean to interrupt,” Henry grunted, “but I have just a couple questions about our current situation.” Dean’s smile slipped and then disappeared entirely, a determined look taking its place.

“Right,” he said. “We should probably move this powwow to the War Room.” Right as he finished his sentence, alarms started going off again. Henry groaned, Sam and Mary jumped, looking around frantically, and Dean just shouted, “dammit, not again!” ad marched out of the room. Henry took pity on the worried Mary and Sam.

”It happens constantly,” he said, “we don’t know how to turn them off.” He walked out of the room after Dean and felt the others close behind. The War Room was all lit up, various lights blinking across the table. Henry grabbed the records notebook and noted the locations that were lit up before tossing it back onto the shelf. It suddenly got quiet and Kevin came back into the room, scowling.

“I need Charlie back here to help with this,” he said. “I can’t take it anymore.”

“Like the rest of us love it so much,” Dean grunted, coming in from the same doorway Kevin had walked through. He looked at Henry.

“I got the locations,” Henry said, moving his shoulder to indicate the notebook.

“Right,” Dean rubbed his hands together, and the room fell awkwardly silent. Kevin looked at each person in turn, Sam looked at the ceiling, Mary stared at Dean, and Dean and Henry both kept their eyes trained on the floor.

“First thing I want to ask,” Henry said, looking up and clapping once to break the horrible silence, “how about we discuss the mysterious man who was in Sam’s room that seems to have caused his miraculous recovery?” Sam looked over at him, confused.

“There was a man in my room?” he asked.

“According to prophet boy,” Dean said. Kevin shot him a glare.

“I have a name,” he said.

“Right, wouldn’t want to wear it out,” Dean smiled back at him Henry rolled his eyes.

“Boys, boys,” Henry said, “stop flirting.” Both Kevin and Dean looked appropriately stricken and Sam coughed to cover a laugh. Mary was looking from person to person quickly, trying to keep up. It was so similar to how Henry had been his first few weeks at the bunker he almost smiled.

“What did he look like?” Mary asked. All eyes went to her. She cleared her throat. “The man you saw?” Kevin looked up, scanning his memory.

“Um, it was pretty fast,” he said. “He was sitting down on the bed, so I couldn’t tell how tall he was. He had brown hair, a few inches long, but nowhere near as long as Sam’s. Sort of chubby cheeks. Brownish eyes? It was really fast, guys, and then he just zapped out.”

“Well, what could it have been?” Sam asked.

“I don’t get it,” Dean said, “There’s nothing strong enough out there to fix this, at least that I know of. And especially not since the angels fell.”

“Ok, you know what, we’ll get back to that,” Henry said. “Next thing I’m just slightly curious about: how is Mary back from the dead after all this time?” All eyes went to Mary again. She swallowed.

“I have no idea,” she said, shrugging. “I have been fighting my way through heaven for years, I know that. Ever since I was finally released from the house I don’t know how many years ago. I was still looking for John and then suddenly I was out. I woke up in a coffin and had to dig my way up.” Henry and Sam’s eyes shifted to Dean.

“Ok, so we can agree that _was_ an angel then,” Dean said, not meeting their eyes. “When did you get out?”

“Two weeks ago,” Mary said.

“So, same time as heaven dumped its bucket,” Dean said. “Who popped your lid if all the angels were free falling at the time?”

“I told you, Dean,” Mary said gently, “I don’t know.”

“Glad we wrapped both of those mysteries up,” Kevin laughed without mirth. A loud growling noise from Sam startled everyone. He looked down at his stomach in surprise. Dean grinned.

“I think you are in need of a good meal, Sammy,” he said and turned on his heel, going towards the kitchen without another word.

 

* * *

 

 

Henry and Mary were alone in the room. Sam left after Dean, claiming the need to shower after two weeks of being practically comatose. The room was silent for a bit until Kevin cleared his throat and excused himself too. Mary looked to entirely lost and Henry finally decided he would have to be the one to talk. God help the Winchesters if saving the world ever relied on them maintaining a healthy level of communication.

“I’m assuming you have questions,” he said, shooting her a small smile which she hesitantly returned. She seemed to think about it for a while, almost as though she was deciding what questions she deemed most important.

“You said you and Dean were family,” she said. It wasn’t exactly a question but he got the meaning. He wondered just how much she would have known about him through John. He mulled over the question for a minute before deciding to go into history first.

“As a hunter,” he began, “did you ever hear of the Men of Letters?” she looked confused by the non-answer.

“My dad mentioned them when I was a kid, yes,” she said.

“Did you know you are standing in their bunker?” Henry asked. Mary’s eyes widened and she looked around the room.

“I thought they were wiped out,” she said, eyeing the books on the shelves and the map on the table in turn. Henry winced at the idea that this had been the history passed down from hunter to hunter: the once great society had fallen.

“Yes, well, they did,” he grunted, “but the key to this place still existed. Sam and Dean got it because they are legacies.” He looked to Mary to see if she was catching on yet. Her look of confusion was enough of an answer.

“How are they legacies?” Mary asked. “I didn’t raise them in the life. Well, I didn’t intend to.” She looked down.

“Your side of the family had nothing to do with it,” Henry said. “The Winchesters have—had been legacies for years.” Mary’s eyes filled with fear.

“But, John?” Henry waved his hand at her.

“No, John broke the tradition,” he said. “He had no idea.” Mary let out a breath. She looked at Henry again.

“That’s all fine, but what does it have to do with you?” she asked. Henry let his shoulders slump, realizing he’d really just been dragging this out.

“I was the last chain in the Winchester line who was a Man of Letters,” he said, hesitating slightly. “I’m… John’s father.” He glanced up at Mary. While he had seen her pull some looks of shock that evening already, this one was very different. She was honest-to-god flabbergasted, although if Dean heard him use a word like that he’d probably get a good eye roll and some terrible nickname. But below the shock, building, was anger.

“Henry,” she said. “Henry Winchester.”

“Yes,” Henry looked down again.

“The one who ran out on John when he was a kid?” Henry raised his eyes in anger.

“I did not _ever_ intend to leave him,” he practically snarled. Mary took a step back, eyes widening further. “And I would not have left if I had known I wouldn’t be able to go back.”

“How on—how are you here?” she asked.

“I performed a spell that brought me forward in time,” Henry said. “It was supposed to bring me to John but he… wasn’t available anymore. I was almost killed in an attempt to kill a Knight of Hell. I have been with your boys ever since.”

“And you can’t go back?” Mary asked. She sounded less angry now.

“No, I can never go back,” Henry looked at her evenly. “Now, I know you didn’t get a chance to know your sons as adults, a pain I feel I can identify with fairly well, so I’m going to encourage that you go into the kitchen. Dean is quite the impressive chef and I’ve found that watching him cook is oddly calming.”

 

* * *

 

 

When Henry and Mary entered the kitchen Dean was facing away from them, whipping something. Henry went and sat down at the island on a stool, but Mary stayed in the doorway, just watching. She was looking at Dean like he was the 8th wonder of the world.

“How was the woman, Lexi, with the ghost thing?” Henry asked. Dean finished whipping what turned out to be some kind of sauce and tossed the whisk into the sink. He walked over to the fridge and retrieved a head of lettuce, cilantro, and tomatoes. Henry didn’t even remember any of it being purchased.

“As well as could be expected,” Dean said, grabbing a sharp knife from the set on the counter. He cut into the lettuce first, quickly making it into strips. “Bit of a bitch at the end, considering we saved her skin.” Henry hummed in agreement. The room fell into a comfortable silence so the only sound was Dean cooking.

Henry noticed almost a second before Dean went for it that there was a frying pan heating on the stove. A plate of beef sat next to it, cut into even strips. Dean turned from chopping and slid the beef into the pan. It started sizzling and popping gloriously. He grabbed a different cutting board off another part of the counter and added its contents to the pan. The smells of cooking onions and peppers joined the cooking beef.

Henry glanced back at Mary and saw her smiling ear to ear. She was surprised and just happy to even be in the room. While the pan cooked, Dean grabbed tortillas out of the fridge, wrapped them in foil, and put them in the oven to warm. Sam joined them in the kitchen just as Dean shook the pan to spread out the contents evenly again and then turned off the burner. Henry wondered if Dean even noticed that people watched him when he cooked. He didn’t seem to notice. Or, he didn’t acknowledge anyone. He hadn’t looked close to this amount of content since, well, since Cas had been there, Henry though. Even so, he could still see that sadness lingering.

Kevin walked into the room, putting his phone back into his pocket. “Hey, I called Charlie to come help with these alarms again,” he said, “so we need another plate for dinner.”

“I’ll get them all,” Henry said, standing and walking to the cupboard where the kept all the dishes. He found himself surprised by the weight, though he shouldn’t have been. Their family had just grown.

Sam and Mary were standing near each other but weren’t talking. Henry supposed it was probably just the quantity of what each of them wanted to say was preventing them from saying _anything._ Dean grabbed the tortillas out of the oven and put them on the counter next to the meat and vegetables and then grabbed the sauce whisked earlier and put it in the same line. He gave everything a cursory once-over and then nodded.

“Let’s go without Charlie,” Dean said. “I don’t want to wait. Dig in.” Everyone moved forward and grabbed plates, moving in on the food. “Who wants a beer?” Dean called from the fridge. Four “yes’s” came from points around the kitchen and Dean brought the whole set of bottles to the table.

“So, when’s Charlie going to be here?” Henry asked. Kevin’s answer was cut short by the sound of the heavy bunker door creaking open and slamming. Dean grinned and grabbed the final beer.

“Hey, Charlie,” he called, “we’re in the kitchen!”

“Waddup, bitches?” Charlie asked, coming into the room and dumping her bag heavily in the chair in the corner. “Whatever that smell is, it is divine,” Charlie breathed in deeply.

“You’re Charlie?” Mary asked. Charlie’s eyes shot over to the table.

“Wait, has my sole role as bunker chick been revoked?” Charlie asked in mock hurt and then her eyes caught sight of the person sitting next to Mary. “Sam? Oh, my God!” She ran the rest of the way across the room and threw herself at him.

“Hey, Charlie,” Sam chuckled. Charlie shot back suddenly.

“Shit, am I hurting you?” She looked over him, “like, how are you ok? And who are you?” she asked, turning to Mary now.

“I’m Mary,” she said. Charlie’s eyes scrunched up and she looked at Dean suspiciously.

“Coincidence or…?” She left the question hanging. Dean’s grin was still there. He stood up and handed Charlie the beer.

“Charlie, meet Mom.”

 

* * *

 

 

“I can’t believe you got _another_ family resurrection,” Charlie muttered, sipping her beer. “Like, Gramps was one thing, but this too?” Henry chuckled.

“Can I get your plate, Charlie?” Charlie waved her hand and Henry took that as a positive indicator, taking her dishes along with his own to the sink in the kitchen.

“Call it Winchester luck?” Dean asked. Charlie snorted.

“Hey, Henry,” Sam said, standing up, “let me get the dishes. I’ve been shirking that job for two weeks now.” Henry almost protested until he saw the look Dean gave him from across the table. For whatever reason, Dean knew Sam just _needed_ to do the dishes. Henry rolled his eyes internally.

“Yeah, sure,” he left the plates in the sink to soak and came back to the table.

“Charlie,” Mary said, “can I ask how you met my boys?” Dean smiled at her.

“Ah, yes,” Charlie said, and cracked her knuckles. “Many moons ago, the Winchesters were in deep shit, saving the world yet again. Enter Charlie: young, smart, sexy computer geek to solve all their leviathan problems. I tried to hold out against their charm, but they really broke my arm.” Sam snorted over by the sink and Dean pointed a strong finger at the red head.

“Hey, that wasn’t us,” he said, then thought for a second. “Well, it wasn’t us who _physically_ did the breaking.”

“Sure, sure,” Charlie said, “whatever, Winchester.” She gave him a toying threatening glare and both Henry and Mary chuckled.

“So, you helped them on a case?” Mary clarified, smiling.

“Please, I helped them save the world as we know it!” Charlie said, tossing back a sip of her beer lightly. “Solving just a regular case with them doesn’t usually end up with my arm in a sling. Hell, sometimes it ends up in sexy, _interrupted,_ fairy make out sessions.”

“Still sorry about that, by the way,” Dean said.

“Wait, fairies actually exist?” Mar asked. “I thought they were a myth.”

“Isn’t everything we deal with a myth?” Dean asked. Mary sighed and nodded.

“Alright, fair enough,” she said. Charlie opened her mouth like she was going to go on but her voice was overpowered by the alarms blaring again. Dean growled and fisted his hands. Sam and Mary both put their hands over their ears.

“See, I can’t do this anymore!” Kevin shouted at Charlie. She sighed and set down her beer.

“Looks like I’m needed after all,” she said, disappearing with a wink. Henry looked over at Dean across the table.

“Your turn to log it,” he shouted. Dean glared at him and finally stood up heading toward the War Room. Henry, Mary, and Sam all remained in the kitchen without talking, not wanting to yell over the racket. Finally, the alarms shut off with a sudden flash and the group opened their mouths, stretching their jaws in an attempt to adjust their ears back to the quiet of the bunker.

“How in the _hell_ have you guys gotten used to that,” Sam asking, coming to the table with a finger wiggling around in one ear.

“I really don’t know,” Henry rubbed his neck absently.

“Do you know why they go off?” Mary asked.

“Oh, we have theories,” Henry said. “We _think_ they go off when one of the angels uses its ‘mojo’ somewhere.” They hadn’t been able to test that theory yet, seeing as whenever the alarms went off, the location on the map was far, far away and there was no way Dean was leaving Sam the way he was. They only knew the angels still had power at all because of the first night they fell.

 

* * *

 

 

Dean was in the driver’s seat, with Sam laid out across the back, Henry beside him. The angels had stopped falling while they were back at the church, at least, but every now and then one could be seen on the side of the road. When they were about 5 minutes away from the bunker, an angel suddenly jumped on top of the car, shrieking.

The angel appeared to be in the body of a 16-year-old girl, with what must once have been glowing golden hair. Now the hair looked blood dipped and singed, uneven across her scalp. Dean swerved the car as she continued to wail and whip around on the roof until he finally tensed his shoulders and yelled back to Henry, “Brace yourself and Sam!” Then, with a quick shake of his head, he slammed his foot down onto the brake pedal, sending everyone, including the angel, flying forward.

Henry struggled to keep a strong grip on Sam’s huge form and almost dropped him as the young Winchester rolled forward. Dean nearly flew into the dashboard. The wailing from the angel cut off in surprise as she was thrown from the roof of the Impala down to the tough asphalt of the road.

“So they aren’t dead,” Dean grumbled, breathing hard. “And they are still fucking strong.” Henry didn’t bother agreeing. He rolled Sam back into his original position on the backseat with a grunt. Dean was about to get out of the car, presumably to check on the fallen angel, when she was jumping back on the hood of the car with no warning. She didn’t appear to be bleeding, so that must mean she could heal, but she was shrieking again. A bulb in the streetlight above them burst with a splattering of sparks.

Dean and Henry jumped back in surprise and slammed their hands over their ears. “Son of a _bitch_ she can scream,” Dean called back. Then he was out of the car and dragging the angel off of the Impala. Or, he was trying to. The fallen angel wouldn’t budge. Henry could dimly hear Dean trying to talk the angel down but she didn’t appear to be calming.

Dean reluctantly released the girl and looked at Henry with rough eyes. Henry had a flashing thought that it was incredibly likely Dean was picturing Cas this way, crazed and savage. Then the look was gone and Dean was going to and then returning from the trunk with, what even Henry wad to say was, the most badass weapon he had ever seen. It was an axe made of bone and what looked like leather, and it looked like it had seen some gore in its time.

Dean looked at the angel again, and Henry heard the dim rumble of Dean’s voice trying to calm her. Finally, he saw Dean’s mouth move to form the words, “I’m sorry,” before bashing the angel’s head with the dull end of the axe. Her body crumpled across the hood and Dean lowered the axe, looking at Henry sadly.

 

* * *

 

 

“Well, we’re not going to be able to make any headway tonight,” Charlie said, reentering the kitchen, effectively shaking Henry out of his memory. “I was busy in negotiations with the Warriors of Yesteryear all day anyway and I’m beat. I’m hitting the hay.”

“See you at 8:27 tomorrow morning,” Henry grumbled. Charlie sighed in agreement and left the room.

“I don’t mean to be inconvenient, but I’m fairly tired too,” Mary said. Sam stood up quickly.

“Oh, uh, let me get you a room ready!” he went to walk down the hallway one direction and turned to walk the other way at the last second like he had forgotten where he was even going. Dean returned to the room at almost the same moment Sam left it.

“Somewhere in Maine,” Dean said, answering Henry’s silent question. “Where’s Sam?”

“Finding a room for me,” Mary said. Dean made a soft noise of understanding and the room fell silent again. Henry groaned and both of the other Winchesters turned to look at him in confusion.

“Are we just going to live in awkward silences from this point on?” he asked. “I mean, for god’s sakes, you haven’t seen each other in, what, 30 years? You shouldn’t have an endless amount of stuff to talk about.”

“Thank you, Henry,” Dean growled. Mary made some sort of choking noise and when Henry turned to look at her he was surprised to see her holding in a laugh. Then, from the other side of the room, Dean chuckled too.

“What?” Henry asked, obviously not getting whatever it was that was so funny. Dean laughed a little more, and then even harder.

“I’m sorry,” he said, now fighting to talk through the laughs, “but I’m getting advice from my time-traveling grandpa on how to talk to my recently resurrected mother while in the middle of dealing with the consequences of all the angles being thrown out of heaven. And, on top of that, I’m living with an actual prophet of the lord. My life is weird.” Dean laughed again.

“I was laughing at the bulging vein on Henry’s forehead,” Mary said. The mother and son looked at each other and both burst out laughing loudly. Dean rested his arm on a chair to hold up his weight and both of them struggled to breath inward. Even Henry eventually started to chuckle, the humor of the situation building. When Sam finally made his way back into the room, all three Winchesters were wiping tears from their eyes, guffaws still occasionally breaking from their mouths.

“What the hell?” Sam asked, coming up to the table. Dean took in a steadying breath and tried to stand up straight.

“Sammy, our lives are _weird,_ ” he said, still chuckling. Sam rolled his eyes.

“No, really?” he turned to Mary. “I got your room ready… Mom.” The last word was delayed and sounded so incredibly strange coming from Sam’s mouth. Henry and Dean sobered suddenly, but Mary smiled.

“Thank you, Sam,” she stood up. “I’d better go now. I’m now thoroughly worn out. Goodnight, Henry. Goodnight, Dean.” She walked over to Dean carefully and pulled him into a hug. He returned it readily, squeezing her tightly to himself, pulling her close like Dean always did when he hugged someone.

“’Night, Mom,” he said. Mary kissed his check and released him. She smiled warmly and followed Sam down the hall. Dean looked like he was about to break in half. Henry stood up and put his hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“Do me a favor, Dean,” Henry said. Dean looked at him questioningly. “Don’t make her come to me, or worse, Charlie, with questions. Just… _talk_ to her.” Dean looked like he was about to get upset but he let it fall at the last minute. He looked down and nodded.

“Thanks, Henry,” Dean said. Henry smiled in response and glanced over at the last plate on the table.

“I’ll take care of our dungeon guest tonight,” Henry said. “You get some sleep.”

“You know, we’re going to have to decide what to do with him, eventually,” Dean said.

“That sounds like a problem for another day,” Henry replied. Dean nodded and left the kitchen, heading towards his room. Henry walked over to the plate of food and picked it up carefully. They hadn’t even told Sam yet who was held in room 7B, but Henry figured they would get there eventually. For now, it was time for another preferably very short conversation with the King of Hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from Long Train Runnin' by The Doobie Brothers  
> To listen to a song I wrote while working on this piece which is supposed to be a lullaby from Mary to Dean, go here: http://goo.gl/CGTPPF


	3. I'll Be Home in a Little While

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlie is still everyone's favorite techie (and Trekkie) and there's a familiar face to be seen at the bunker door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I just have to say for a minute that the beginning scene of this chapter is probably my favorite that I've written just because I made myself laugh with Charlie and Kevin. Oh, and sorry for the short chapter. It's because I'm posting two chapters in one day for your reading enjoyment!

“Have you cut the wire yet?” Kevin called from one end of the bunker.

“Aye-aye,” Charlie called from the other.

“And are you pushing the release button?” Kevin called.

“I’m giving her all she’s got, captain!” Charlie yelled back in a Scottish accent.

“Would you both shut the hell up?” Dean said, coming into the room. Henry couldn’t help but agree in this case. Reading was becoming difficult with the loud voices yelling back and forth. But apparently those voices elected to ignore Dean.

“Ok, flip the switch marked ‘don’t flip’,” Charlie yelled. Henry put his head in his hands and Dean looked back and forth between the two sides of the bunker Charlie and Kevin were calling from in obvious concern.

“Uh, done!” Kevin yelled. The room waited in silence. When nothing happened, Henry dared to let out a breath. “So?” Kevin yelled. Charlie walked into the room with a triumphant grin.

“I think we actually pulled it off, Doc!” Charlie yelled. After a minute Kevin walked into the room.

“Great Scott,” he said with a smirk.

“Yeah, and this would all be really heavy if you two would explain to me what the fuck is going on.”

“Wait, what the hell does gravity have to do with this?” Henry asked. Charlie and Kevin turned to him and busted up laughing, and even Dean smiled and chuckled.

“Sorry,” Charlie said. “That was just so exactly what I’ve been waiting to happen with Henry here. He finally made the ‘out of my own time’ comment I’ve been waiting for. And it was even asking about a time travel movie! That’s gold!”

“Alright, chill, McFly,” Dean said. “What did you two manage to figure out?” Kevin grinned.

“I think we got the alarms off,” he said. Henry sighed in relief Charlie had been there for four days now and their constant working had been driving him nuts. He heard Sam’s voice coming towards them from the direction of the archive room.

“… so Dean’s sitting there, trying to shake the bottle off his hand, but the damn thing is stuck tight,” Sam’s laughs were joined by Mary’s but Sam’s stopped as he entered the room to see Dean’s glare. Sam cleared his throat and Mary sucked her mouth in, still smiling, and trying to not look like she was laughing.

“You think I can’t top that?” Dean asked. Sam gulped loudly.

“Come on, Dean, it’s just a good story,” he said, trying to brush it off.

“Yeah, and I have a pretty good story about the time you managed to swap bodies with a 14-year-old boy,” Dean said. Charlie let out a laugh and Mary looked at Sam in amusement.

“He was 17,” Sam grumbled. Mary burst into laughter again and it put an infuriatingly smug look on Dean’s face.

“Boys, boys,” Charlie interrupted, “we cannot possibly leave out either of your experiences with LARPing.”

“No way,” Kevin’s jaw dropped, “ _You two_ were _LARPing_?”

“Wait, now I’m lost,” Mary said. Henry understood the feeling.

“Live action role playing,” he said. “It means these boys were playing dress up.”

“Hey,” Charlie held up her hands. “Offense! I’m offended! Moondoor is not a little pretend game, thank you very much, _Henry._ I’m only telling you that they put on face paint and ran into open battle.” Henry, Mary, and Kevin all looked at the boys open-mouthed and started laughing. Charlie grinned maliciously.

“ _Tell me_ you have a picture of this,” Kevin gasped out.

“Oh, I have a picture,” Sam and Dean both paled at the words. “Sam’s hair was in a ponytail, do you honestly think I wouldn’t record that moment? It’s up in my car.” Henry stood up.

“Oh, I would be more than happy to get that for you,” Henry said, rubbing his hands together. Mary nodded at him, still laughing too hard to speak. Before Sam or Dean could stop him, Henry cut out of the door and headed to the bunker entry stairs. He climbed up them, laughing, trying to picture Sam with his hair pulled back. He pulled open the door and ran right into a figure standing there.

“Henry,” the deep voice said, and then the figure collapsed into Henry’s arms. Henry recognized the disgusting trench coat through the layer of filth all over it.

“Why do you always have to show up like this?” Henry asked him quietly. He struggled under Castiel’s weight, trying to pull him into the bunker. Once he had moved the collapsed figure inside a bit, Henry called down into the bunker. “Dean! Someone at the door for you!” There was a rustling and the sound of Dean’s shoes slapping along the floor.

“You know what,” he called, still coming down the hall, “Charlie said the wig made me look more realistic, ok?”

“That wig was all you, Braveheart,” Charlie yelled. Henry heard Dean chuckle and finally he walked into the room and looked up the stairs.

“Cas?” he asked in wonder. Then he noticed the fact that Henry was busy trying to hold up his _entire weight_. “Cas!” he yelled this time. He ran up the stairs and grabbed the angel (well, that was seeming like a less likely term about now) into his own arms. Henry heard the sounds of a few sets of feet all coming towards them.

“What happened?” Dean asked, moving down the stairs, carrying Castiel entirely on his own.

“He said my name and then collapsed,” Henry said. He closed the bunker door and followed Dean carefully down the stairs. All four of the other bunker inhabitants slid into view at the same time and Henry shooed them away.

“It’s Cas,” he said, looking into Sam’s eyes. The tall Winchester clenched his jaw and nodded. Mary looked despairingly lost yet again.

“Henry, door!” Dean yelled. Henry ran in front of Dean and went to open Castiel’s door. Dean grunted out a negative noise and Henry turned to see him gesture his head at his own room and it finally clicked. _Of course they would be in the same room._ Henry quickly went to the door and flung it open, getting out of the way. Dean maneuvered Cas onto his bed and then lifted him back up again, getting rid of the ratty trench coat. He threw it into the corner, and Castiel’s suit jacket followed quickly afterwards. Henry removed Cas’s shoes carefully, but Dean didn’t even look at him.

“Cas?” he asked, putting a soft hand on Cas’s cheek. “Come on, buddy, not this shit again.” The other residents of the bunker all stood in the doorway, looking lost or uncomfortable or curious, or an odd mix of the three.

“So, this is Cas?” Charlie whispered quietly. Sam nodded at her. “Huh, I thought he would be, I don’t know, tougher looking?” Henry gave her a soft smile and shook his head. Charlie took the hint and stopped talking.

“Somebody get me some water,” Dean said, not looking up. Kevin took off down the hallway. Dean put his hand against Castiel’s forehead to check for a fever, then leaned in and listened for how he was breathing. Next he checked the fallen angel’s pulse. He shoulders released a bit when he couldn’t find anything wrong.

“Dean, maybe he’s just tired,” Sam said, taking a careful step into the room.

“Tired from what? What took him so long to get here, Sam?” Dean finally turned to face his family and Henry saw the level of desperation not even sort of hidden in his eyes. Mary’s eyes widened and she glanced back and forth between Cas and Dean. “The other angels still have power, Sam.”

“I know,” Sam said. “But maybe Cas is different. I mean, isn’t Cas always different?” he let a small smile tilt up the corners of his mouth and Dean’s eyes got a glint in them for a second. Kevin returned with a glass of water and Dean’s face locked into its ‘get shit done’ expression. He turned around to face Cas again. He lifted the fallen angel up and opened his mouth slightly.

“Come on, Cas, drink,” Dean whispered. With a shocked cough, Castiel’s eyes finally reopened. Dean almost dropped the water. Charlie and Mary both made surprised “oh!” noises upon seeing the flaring blue eyes for the first time. Charlie whistled lowly. Cas’s eyes shot to her and then went back to Dean.

“Calm down, Cas,” Dean said. “You’re ok, you’re fine. You came back to me.” Castiel’s eyes softened and then noticed the water in Dean’s hands. He practically pounced on it, draining the glass.

“Slow down, Cas,” Sam said. “You’ll get sick.”

“He doesn’t get sick,” Dean growled. Cas removed the glass from his mouth slowly and looked down. “Right, Cas?” Dean asked, putting a hand on Castiel’s dark hair lightly.

“Dean,” Cas’s voice shook and Henry was taken aback by how weak he sounded. “He took my grace. Metatron. He tricked me and took my grace. The angels are my fault.” A drop of water feel from Castiel’s downturned face and Henry saw Sam’s jaw drop in his peripheral vision.

“It’s ok, Cas, we’ll work through it,” Dean said, beginning to run his hand through Castiel’s hair. Henry heard a grunt and turned to see Kevin quickly exiting the room. Mary was looking at the two men on the bed in mild wonder.

“Castiel,” Henry said. The man looked up at him, his whole face was a mess of emotions that Henry never thought he would see. “Does that mean you are human now?” He tried to keep his voice soft, that same tone Castiel had once used on him that just sounded curious and careful, not cruel, but he saw the man’s shoulders collapse and his head fell down again. That was enough of an answer.  Castiel’s shoulders started shaking and Henry saw Charlie and Sam take their leave of the room.

“Cas,” the word was said like a prayer, which Henry thought was probably because Dean had only said the word in prayer for the last three weeks in all likelihood anyway. Dean tipped his head up so their eyes met. Henry stood up from the end of the bed and walked to where Mary was. “It doesn’t matter. We’ll fix it. You’re home now.” Dean turned to glance at the door like he was deciding something. He apparently decided something along the lines of ‘fuck it’ because when he turned around, he grabbed Castiel’s face and pulled him into a kiss.

Henry put a hand on Mary’s shoulder to lead her away and saw that she was crying. Henry considered her face and the situation before him, finally decided it was worth it, and pulled Mary into a hug. She fell into his arms easily and didn’t pull away. He glanced one more time into the room to see Dean pulling away from the kiss and leaning his forehead against Cas’s.

“You’re ok,” he whispered. Henry smiled at them and finally led Mary away.

 

* * *

 

 

When Henry walked into the kitchen early the next day, he found Mary already there with a mug of coffee in her hands. Her hair was done, not frizzy from sleeping, and she was wearing one of the new pairs of clothes that her and Dean had gone out and bought a couple days ago. Henry cleared his throat to let her know he was there.

“There’s more coffee,” Mary said without turning. Henry walked around the island to the corner of the counter where the coffee machine lived and poured himself his own mug. He took a long drink from the cup.

“Are you the first one awake?” Henry asked. Mary nodded.

“Henry, can I ask you a question?” Mary said. Henry smiled.

“I think you just did,” he said. She rolled her eyes but smiled slightly in return.

“How long have Dean and… Cas been together?” Henry considered the question along what Sam had told him.

“Probably about a year,” Henry said, “but I could be shorting them a few months, I’m not sure. You’d have to ask them, I think.” Mary nodded again, her mouth tilting downwards in a sort of ‘not bad’ expression.

“And Cas is – was – an angel?” she asked. Henry nodded at her. “Huh.”

“What?” Henry asked.

“Well, I could tell Dean was upset, but I really didn’t realize he has been _longing_ for someone this whole time. I didn’t think he was the type,” Mary said.

“Oh, they’re both the same,” Henry rolled his eyes. “When one is gone, the other is constantly _leaning_ towards them, like this infuriating magnetic pull. They’re hopeless.” Mary hummed in response.

“They make you miss it?” Mary asked. Henry squinted at her in confusion.

“Miss what?”

“Love.” Mary smiled sadly. Henry took a choking gulp inwards. He had avoided thinking about it for so long, focusing all his energy on Dean and Sam, trying not to think about the life he had left. He avoided thinking about the line in one of the _Supernatural_ books when someone told a younger John to ‘say hey to his old man’ and John had said he would. He avoided thinking of his wife, now long dead – he had checked. Mary seemed to understand his non-answer. “Me too.”

Sam stumbled into the room, hair wild. “Morning,” he muttered. He went for the coffee. He poured two mugs and handed one off to an equally blurry-eyed Charlie as she walked in shortly afterwards.

“What time is it?” Charlie asked. Henry looked down at his slim watch.

“9:15,” he said. “Wow, I haven’t woken up after 8:30 in almost three weeks.”

“And God does it feel good,” a voice said. All eyes in the room swiveled to Dean I the doorway. He shifted uncomfortably. “C’mon, Cas, coffee.” Henry stretched his neck to look over Dean’s shoulder to see Cas standing there. His body was shrinking inwards, shoulders falling forward and head bowed like he was trying to avoid being noticed. He was wearing what looked like a pair of Dean’s jeans and a loose-fitting grey T-shirt. Henry couldn’t believe the change in demeanor from just a few weeks earlier. But, he supposed, being human could do that to you.

Dean grabbed two mugs out of the cabinet and filled them up with the last of the coffee before starting another pot. He handed Castiel his mug carefully, and it was received with a soft “thank you”. The room was awkwardly silent except for the sounds of sipping. Henry looked to see Charlie glancing back and forth between Dean and Cas carefully with intense concentration. Actually, as Henry checked, everyone in the room was looking at the two men.

Dean didn’t appear to notice, and Henry couldn’t tell if Castiel did, since he always looked sort of awkward. Dean finished off his mug with a spectacular gulp and put the cup back on the counter. “So,” he said, “who’s ready to kick Metatron’s sorry angelic ass?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Home by Mumford and Sons  
> To listen to a song I wrote while working on this piece which is supposed to be a lullaby from Mary to Dean, go here: http://goo.gl/CGTPPF


	4. You Are My Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bonus chapter of JUST Dean and Cas, because I was really in need of writing some destiel content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, short chapter. But I think I make up for it with cuteness. Hopefully.

Dean put his hand carefully on his angel’s hair, beginning to run his hand through it. And yes, Cas would always be _his angel_ no matter who did what to him. All that mattered was that Cas was here, and that Dean was sitting next to him, touching him, and he wasn’t going to let him go.

“It’s ok, Cas, we’ll work through it,” Dean said. He heard Kevin grunt and leave the room, but again he didn’t care. He wouldn’t care if he was blown up on the jumbo screen at a baseball game. He had begun to wonder if Cas was really dead this time.

“Castiel,” he heard Henry begin and Dean wanted to hiss at him and lock Cas away from everyone else, but he let it stand. Cas turned his face-full of emotions to Henry and Dean wasn’t all that surprised to hear an intake of breath at his expression. No one was really used to seeing Cas display emotion like this. “Does that mean you are human now?” Dean hadn’t wanted to ask, didn’t really want to hear the answer, but he knew. The way Cas’s entire body collapsed like someone had dropped a brick house on him was painful to watch. He felt his heart skip a beat when he saw the tears start to fall. He wanted to take Cas into his arms and never let go. He heard a couple sets of feet leave the room.

“Cas,” he said, carefully phrasing it the way Cas always said his name like a benediction. Cas finally looked up at him, their eyes meeting. Well, Cas might be human, but he still had eyes that lit up like a thousand galaxies. It was more than just seeing Jimmy’s eyes, there was still that deep way of looking that was so distinctly _Cas_ locked up in that deep blueness. “It doesn’t matter. We’ll fix it. You’re home now.” It was something he had always tried to make Cas understand, something that he never seemed to comprehend. That his home was always with Dean. He was suddenly painfully aware of his _mother_ and _grandfather_ standing in the doorway looking at him.

He glanced over his shoulder for just a moment, deciding if he cared what his mom thought about Cas. His mind responded with an overwhelming ‘yes, of course you care!’ but his mouth didn’t listen. His traditional final thought of ‘fuck it’ before making any decisions ran along his brain and he was leaning in, finally meeting Cas’s lips with his own.

The lips, those perfect lips, were even more chapped than usual, but Dean didn’t let himself notice. The kiss wasn’t nearly long enough, but he wouldn’t push Cas when he was feeling the way he was. With the will-power of a thousand men, Dean broke away. He felt Cas try to drag him back in with his lips and Dean almost smiled. He leaned his forehead against Cas’s, just glad to be breathing the same hot air. He _finally_ heard the sounds of the last of his family leaving the room, closing the door behind them, and Dean let out a deep sigh of relief. Cas was breathing hard right back at him, eyes seeking Dean’s own like they were the only things keeping him from exploding.

Dean leaned in again, capturing Cas’s mouth for too quick a moment. “Where have you been, Cas?”

“Walking,” Cas said. Dean started at his voice. He had not spoken much since arriving and the broken sound of his words felt like stab wounds.

“From where?” Dean asked. “Why didn’t you call?”

“I woke up,” Cas swallowed shakily, “in Colorado. The day Metatron stole my grace and used it to make the angels fall. As far as calling,” Cas pulled away from Dean slightly and Dean made a complaining noise at the loss of contact. Cas reached into his pants pocket and pulled out the remnants of a phone. “I think I landed on the phone.”

Dean laughed humorlessly, taking the hand that held the phone in his own. “That sounds like Winchester luck.” Cas sniffed in response. “You didn’t remember my number?”

“I couldn’t afford to ask,” Cas said, looking more regretful than before. “Other angels will be after me now. I could only work on moving forward, on getting back to you.”

“You did, you made it,” Dean said. They were quiet for another moment, just letting themselves feel the presence of the other without communicating to fuck it all up. But eventually Cas had to ask.

“Dean,” he began. “Who were the women in the room?” Dean let himself laugh a bit for real this time.

“Well, the red-head was Charlie,” he said. “I think I told you about her.”

“Yes,” Cas said. “You said she was a queen.”

“And she won’t let you forget it,” Dean said, smiling slightly. “The other woman was, well, my mom.” Cas’s eyebrows drew together quickly and his eyes widened as he sat back to look at Dean head on. Dean let out a breath. “Yeah, I know. Seems unlikely.”

“That you mother returned to life suddenly after 30 years? Yes, that seems much more than unlikely,” Cas said. Dean realized his voice was wary, not confused.

“We did every test we could think of on her, Cas,” he said. “It’s her. She came back.” Cas considered Dean carefully, then leaned forward to put a soft hand on Dean’s check, rubbing his thumb along the stubble there.

“You are happy,” he said.

“Well, yeah,” Dean murmured, leaning into Cas’s touch. “My mom came back. Sammy woke up. You know he was sick? I guess you didn’t. But he’s better now. And _you_ came back. I have all of the people I care about together. I’m happy.” Cas’s eyes wrinkled up sadly.

“You have your family,” he said. He went to remove his hand from Dean’s cheek but was prevented.

“That includes you, Cas,” Dean said, holing Cas’s hand against his own face firmly. “You are my family. And family works to fix things together, ok?” Cas nodded still looking down. Dean reached forward with both hands to tilt Cas’s face upwards and he laid another kiss on Cas’s lips. “Ok?”” He was more insistent this time.

“Yes, ok,” Cas said.

“Good,” Dean said. He considered Cas’s dirty state for a moment. “Do you want food? And you really need to take a shower.” Cas glared at him.

“I’ve been walking to find you for nearly three weeks and you are going to complain about me being dirty?” he asked. Dean smirked.

“You don’t smell great, Cas,” he said. Cas opened his mouth, presumably to say something less than complimentary to Dean when a loud grumble sounded. Cas’s eyes pinched together in pain and he looked down at his stomach. “Food, then,” Dean said seriously. His eyes hardened. He stood up to go to the kitchen.

“Don’t leave me,” Cas whispered, almost like he didn’t want Dean to hear at all. Dean’s shoulders released and he moved back to the bed, running his hand through Cas’s hair because he just couldn’t seem to get enough of that.

“Then come with me, grumbles,” Dean smiled tightly. He held his hands out carefully as Cas moved to stand, like a beam of light in the wrong direction would send Cas tumbling over. When it didn’t, he moved over and linked hands with Cas, telling himself it was to lend support but really he just wanted the contact. And, though he wouldn’t admit it out loud, he really liked holding Cas’s hand.

They moved together down the hall and into the kitchen, only releasing hands when it came time for Dean to butter the toast he had made for Cas. No one interrupted them as Cas slowly took his first bite and then finished both slices with a ravenous fury. Dean watched him concern.

“How much have you been able to eat, Cas?” Dean asked, rubbing Cas’s back between his shoulder blades the way he had always liked. Cas swallowed his mouthful of food and used a napkin to carefully wipe his face like he hadn’t just eaten toast with the manners of a toddler raised by wolves.

“What I could find,” Cas said, not looking at Dean. “Sometimes people would give me a small amount of money and I would purchase something from a gas station.” Dean felt his heart clench at the thought of Cas marching across country, faint from lack of food. The image conjured up the same level of pain Dean usually associated with being shot. He stood up to make more toast, at the very least.

“No, Dean, it’s fine,” Cas’s hand on his arm stopped him. “I just want to sleep.” Dean looked down.

“Ok,” he said. “Any chance I can get you to shower first?” he looked up with a small smile and Cas returned it with a roll of his shoulders that Dean knew was his equivalent of eye-rolling.

They went back to the room hand in hand again. Dean pulled off his shirt once they were back inside and threw it into a pile, quickly followed by his pants so he stood there in nothing but his boxers. Cas looked him up and down and Dean laughed at him.

“You’re leering,” he chuckled. “It wouldn’t come across as quite as creepy if you were wearing less clothing.” The humor that had come into Cas’s eyes for a moment disappeared just as quickly. His hands went down to dress shirt reluctantly and he started popping buttons. Dean saw the reason for his reluctance fairly quickly. He was too thin, first of all, his skin clinging to his bones in a horrible way that it hadn’t before. But he also had a partly healed gash across his left side, right above his hip. It wasn’t deep, and it didn’t look infected, but it didn’t look like it felt good. At all. Dean moved forward and almost touched the wound but stopped at the last second, reaching up to put his hand on Cas’s chest instead.

“You are home now,” Dean said, mainly to reassure himself. He pulled Cas’s shirt off cautiously and tossed it in the direction of the garbage can, missing by a couple of feet. Cas’s pants followed. Dean pressed a delicate kiss to the corner of Cas’s mouth and moved them both towards the bed. He moved his mouth across Cas’s chin, feeling the rasp of hair that hadn’t been shaved in a while scratching his lips.

“You need to shave,” Dean laughed into his skin.

“Thank you for pointing that out,” Cas said. Dean laughed at his dry tone and carefully pulled Cas down onto the soft memory-foam mattress next to him. He sucked a deep kiss into Cas’s neck, marking him the way he could now. Cas groaned and Dean pulled himself back. Cas’s eyes were full of regret.

“Dean,” he started. “I…”

“You’re tired,” Dean finished. He sighed outwards loudly. “I know. I’m sorry.” He pressed another few kisses to Cas’s neck, and back up onto his mouth before he finally made himself pull away again.

“I’m glad I’m home,” Cas whispered, letting his eyes flutter closed. Dean turned him over skillfully so he could wrap an arm around the man, pulling him close. He breathed in Cas’s scent with relish.

“I’m glad you’re home too,” Dean whispered hotly into the nape of Cas’s neck and he fell asleep quickly, basking in the warmth of a person he had been too long without. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week: back to business. Comment and subscribe because you love me :)  
> Oh, and follow me on tumblr: http://preparetobemildlyentertained.tumblr.com/  
> To listen to a song I wrote while working on this piece which is supposed to be a lullaby from Mary to Dean, go here: http://goo.gl/CGTPPF


	5. As Our Demon Celestials Bleed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was probably time to broach the subject of the Kind of Hell being in their dungeon anyway...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, back to full-length chapters and getting back to the main story. I want to say that I wrote this chapter a while ago and, if I'm being honest, I really like Crowley. So, sorry if it doesn't seem that way in this chapter. At all.

Kevin was already sitting at the table in the War Room when everyone entered. He had notes spread all over the table, and the Angel Tablet set out in front of him. And he was asleep. Henry sighed and shook his head at the boy in equal parts annoyance and affection.

“Alright, wiz kid,” Charlie said, coming up behind Kevin and giving him a tap on the shoulders. “I am totally done with you sleeping at this table.” Kevin jerked awake and sat up quickly, a piece of paper stuck to his cheek. Henry shorted and reached forward to pull off the page.

“C’mon, God boy, we gave you a room for a reason,” Dean said.

“In my defense,” Kevin muttered, rubbing his eyes, “you also told me to translate the Tablet, which I haven’t been able to focus on with fixing the alarms.”

“Fair point,” Henry said. Kevin shot him a quick smile.

“Thanks, Gramps,” he said. Henry rolled his eyes.

“I really hate that nickname.”

“So, Metatron,” Sam said, more loudly than necessary. He also brought his hands together in a sharp clap to get everyone’s attention. Henry looked to see Castiel standing unsurely in the doorway, just behind Dean. Apparently Dean noticed too.

“Ah, Cas!” he turned around and grabbed Castiel’s hand, dragging him into the room and over to the table. “This is Charlie. Charlie, meet Cas!” Dean was all false smiles and Henry could feel the tension from here, the need Dean had for Cas to fit in and feel normal.

“Dean says you are a queen,” Cas said. Charlie laughed and grabbed Cas’s hand, shaking it with force.

“Nice to finally meet you, Cas,” she said. Dean seemed satisfied enough with the meeting and turned to face the other way, turning Cas with him.

“And this is, uh, my mom,” Dean said. He was much more awkward this time. Cas glanced at him with a smile and stepped forward.

“Hello Mary, it is good to finally meet you. I am Castiel,” Cas said. He held out his hand in an approximation of what Charlie had just done to him but Mary looked him over, glanced at Dean, and proceeded to pull Cas into a huge bear hug. Cas grunted as he was pulled against her. Dean’s mouth opened like he was going to say something but he stayed silent in shock. Slowly, Cas’s hands rose and he put them on Mary’s back, patting awkwardly.

“Hello Castiel,” Mary said. She released him and Cas stepped unsteadily backwards.

“Wow, Mom, warm a guy,” Dean said, but he was smiling. And so was Castiel, Henry noted as he looked over him.

“You hug the way Dean does,” Cas said. Mary smiled at him.

“And how’s that?”

“Like you won’t get another chance,” Cas said. Everyone in the room became suddenly serious. Fact was, it was the truth. Dean _did_ hug you like it was the last chance he would ever get, most likely because he had missed his chance with too many people to give weak-ass hugs now. Dean’s hugs were strong and full of love. It didn’t shock Henry that Cas would say Mary’s were the same. Actually, there was quite a lot Dean and Mary had in common, now that Henry thought about it.

“I repeat,” Sam said from the side of the room, now looking at Dean, “Metatron.” Dean shook himself like he was waking up and looked away from Cas.

“Right,” he said. “Actually, I wanted to go over one thing again now that we have Cas.” Dean walked to the table in the middle of the room, pulled out a chair, and sat down. The rest of the room followed suit, taking places at the table. Castiel sat down next to Dean and then both scooted their chairs close enough that they were touching. “Cas, you saw Sam when he was sick and you said you couldn’t help him.”

“And he wasn’t even at his worst at that point,” Henry felt the need to add. Dean nodded.

“No, he wasn’t. He was a lot worse by the time he almost finished the 3rd trial. What the hell has the juice to have healed him up?” Castiel looked at Sam and considered for long enough for Sam to start twitching under his gaze. He turned back to Dean.

“An Archangel would have been the only thing with that amount of power,” he said. “Only one of God’s highest could have cleansed Sam of the last remaining Demon blood in his system along with the fractured power the Trials were feeding into him.” It was the most Castiel had said since he had arrived at the bunker, and probably the most Henry had heard him say at once ever.

“An Archangel?” Dean asked, as if he hadn’t heard. “I’m going to go ahead and say that since I was present for all four of those assholes going down that seems less than likely.”

“Well, to be fair,” Sam said from the other end of the table. “Michael and Lucifer aren’t dead, they’re just locked up.” He shifted uncomfortably, looking down.

“Would they have been able to get out with the angelic power shift going down?” Dean asked. Sam looked up at him, fear written across his features.

“That seems implausible,” Castiel said, holding up a hand to calm Sam. “But what I say stands. Only an Archangel would have been able to heal Sam. Or bring Mary back, for that matter,” he added, tilting his head in Mary’s direction. Dean let out an exasperated sigh.

“Cas, if Michael and Lucifer are still stuck in Hell’s Hilton suite, and Gabriel and Raphael are dead, then which Archangel managed to pull this off?” He asked.

“How do you know that Gabriel is dead?” Castiel asked, looking at Dean seriously.

“Oh, come on, we _all_ know Gabriel is dead,” Charlie said from the side. She glanced at Mary’s face. “Ok, maybe not _all._ But for the most part. I mean, you two idiots were _there_ weren’t you?”

“Not actually in the room,” Dean muttered. “But that was sort of the point of the plan, if I recall.”

“You’ve met Gabriel the Archangel?” Mary asked from the table timidly, like she felt she was intruding. Henry put his head in his hands.

“This is what I was talking about with talking to her, Dean,” he said.

“We’ve only had four days!” Dean raised his voice in annoyance. “I’m sorry I haven’t had time to fill her in on the past 30 years!”

“Could you maybe tell me how many Archangels you’ve met, then?” Mary asked, leaning back in her chair and folding her arms. She looked up at Dean with that annoyed glare that was unique to mothers. Dean made a frustrated noise.

“I’ve met all of the Archangels,” he said. Some of Mary’s annoyance gave way to surprise and she struggled to get herself under control enough to ask another question. Henry took her momentary shock to his advantage.

“So, you never actually saw Gabriel dead?” He asked.

“No, ok! We didn’t see it for ourselves,” Dean said. “But we saw the video. And where has he been for all these years if he survived. I thought he jumped on the ‘kill Satan’ train along with the rest of us.”

“Can I just add that I feel more lost than I am comfortable with?” Kevin asked from his seat next to Henry.

“You and me both,” Mary muttered.

“Ok, enough,” Sam said. “Gabriel died. I know he did. I get the feeling he would have had something to say when Cas went all God Complex on us so since he didn’t show up, I’m going to go ahead and say he’s dead.” Cas wrinkled his nose in displeasure at the ‘God Complex’ nickname and Henry made a note to ask about that later. Another note. _For the love of God, am I ever going to know everything I need to with these boys?_ He thought.

“No matter what happened,” Castiel said, “I know of a way we can see if he is truly alive or not.”

“Why the hell didn’t you lead with that, Cas?” Dean asked. His head was in his hands now. He was rubbing soothing circles into his forehead. Castiel reached over to him with two fingers raised but stopped just short of touching Dean, as if he had realized something. Dean glanced up at him and the two fingers still held in the air. He let out a sigh and grabbed the hand, squeezing it tight and letting their clasped hands land together on the table. “It’s ok, Cas. I’m fine. Just tell us what the thing is.”

“There is a summoning ritual that I know of,” Castiel said. “If you have a human soul that was raised from death, you can use them to summon whatever being it was that brought them back to the living.” He looked up at Mary.

“No way,” Dean said.

“I don’t know that that is really your call, Dean,” Mary said, grating her teeth.

“It is right now,” Dean said. “You don’t know jack about angels and I do. There is no way we are using you to summon whatever d-bag angel, or worse ‘ _being’,_ that brought you back.”

“I do know a _bit_ about angels,” Mary said, not breaking eye contact with Dean. “I did try very hard to kill one named Anna, once upon a time.” Henry was getting really tired of grand statements causing shocked silences at the table. He was going to institute a new rule that everyone just get the jaw dropping news out of the way at the beginning of the meetings from now on. Maybe include them in the morning minutes.

“You remember that?” It was Sam who asked. He said it almost in a whisper.

“How do you think I knew you were hunters?” she responded with a sad smile.

“But your memory,” Dean said. “Michael bleached it.”

“I only remembered when I came back,” Mary said. “Dean, I’m not an idiot about angels. If this is a chance to fix things I want to take it.” Dean sighed like he had been holding in breathe for a year and a half.

“Well, we’re going to have to summon whatever it is in the dungeon. I don’t want it to be able to get out,” he said.

“No way, you guys have a dungeon?” Charlie asked. “You’ve been holding out on me!”

“Well, it’s sort of occupied currently,” Henry grumbled. He cast a glance over at Dean to see the scowl he was receiving. Who were they kidding? Everyone was going to have to know eventually. Might as well let the King of Hell out of the bag now.

“Occupied?” Sam asked. Dean sent a really poisonous glare towards Henry.

“Crowley,” he ground out lowly. Castiel relaxed his hold on Dean’s hand.

“You have Crowley in this bunker?” he asked.

“Did you know about this?” Sam demanded of Kevin. The boy glanced back and forth between Henry and Dean, eyebrows brought together in a scowl.

“Yes,” he admitted. “But I’m not happy about it.”

“Big surprise there,” Dean mumbled.

“Hey, Crowley killed his mom and his girlfriend and you are making them house guests?” Sam said. He was leaning forward on the table in anger. “I think he has a right to be pissed about it.”

“Believe me, I’ve tried to tell him that,” Henry said.

“Don’t think you get to act like you are above this,” Sam said, turning a finger on him. “You were supposed to keep them from doing stupid shit. Is that where you sneak off to sometimes after meals?” Henry shifted in his seat and nodded.

“So, the three of you have managed to keep secret that you have someone locked in the dungeon of this bunker for the past five days?” Mary asked incredulously.

“Would it help to point out that he isn’t actually human?” Henry asked, wincing in preparation for the response. He was surprised when none came. Sam and Kevin were both too busy scowling at the table.

“He’s been waiting to talk to you,” Dean said. Henry glanced over to see he was looking at Sam. “He’s been saying for three weeks that you guys are buddies and that you’d tell us that as soon as you woke up.” Sam snorted.

“Tell me you didn’t buy shit like that from him,” he said. Pretty much that they had expected, then. Crowley lying out his ass again.

“Of course we didn’t buy it,” Dean said. “Do you think I met Crowley a week ago? He’s the fucking Kind of Hell, I know he’s lying.”

“Sorry,” Sam muttered.

“Does that mean we get to kill him?” Kevin growled from off to the side. Henry looked at him in surprise for the rough tone. Kevin had never seemed the vicious type, except maybe for the time he had knocked Henry out, but that had been on Dean’s orders. But now, this was Kevin’s own malice. Henry didn’t know how he felt about that.

“I want to talk to him first,” Sam said. Kevin turned to glare at him and Sam held up his hands placatingly. “Just to make sure we have everything we need out of him before we stab him in the face.”

“We all go in together,” Henry said. “He has a much easier time twisting you one-on-one.” Dean gave him an odd, appraising look.

“Alright, fine,” Dean said. “Family meeting moved to the dungeon with the King of Hell.”

 

* * *

 

 

Henry started to disagree with his own idea almost as soon as everyone stepped inside the storage room and gathered around the dungeon doors. It was going to be sort of tight. A pipe dripped off to the side and Henry was positive Crowley could hear the echo of a lot of people breathing. He was just waiting for Crowley’s greeting to flow over the top of the door. Henry didn’t really know why he was stalling so much with the door opening, but he just couldn’t bring himself to pull them open.

“Henry, my boy,” Crowley’s voice crooned, echoing off the dank walls and shivering its way through Henry’s bones. “You brought some friends.” Henry took a breath and grabbed both doors, pulling them open with a heavy grunt.

Crowley sat in the middle of the circle, smiling. His neck was held in place by the heavy chain connected back to the floor. His beard wasn’t looking particularly ratty, but his suit didn’t look great. It was ripped in a couple of places and it was dirty, which Henry knew would be driving Crowley crazy.

“Oh, so many visitors. So many new faces,” Crowley said with a sly smile. “Moose, I hadn’t heard about your improved health.” His whole tone had shifted from the way he had been speaking to Henry for the past few weeks. He was more menacing, more calculating now. Henry thought it probably had something to do with the fact that now Sam was awake, he had lost his running escape con.

“Hey, dick bag, long time,” Dean smiled without humor and stepped in front of the collection of people, predatory and protective at the same moment, something like a mother Lioness. Dean could say what he wanted about being compared with a ‘lady lion’ but Henry knew for a fact that they were vicious as hell and just as protective of their cubs as Dean was of those he called family.

“Now, Dean, let’s be civil,” Crowley said. “For the ladies. Hello, Kevin. How’s my favorite prophet?”

“You don’t talk to him,” Dean growled. Kevin looked ready to attack the demon in the suit that had caused everyone in that room a good deal of pain.

“Well, if I’m not allowed to talk to the people I know, such as our resident angel here,” Crowley grinned at Castiel, whose fists clenched but didn’t correct Crowley. “Nice costume change, by the way. Loving the new look. Very Winchester chic. How about you introduce me to these _lovely_ ladies you’ve brought to join the party?” Mary opened her mouth to say something but Dean held up his hand to stop her.

“Listen here, fucktruck,” Dean sad. “You should be aware that, as of this moment, you are completely useless to us. No deals. No job offers. Nothing. In fact, I’m about 30 seconds away from giving Kevin here a free pass to fuck you up big time. We clear on that?” Crowley looked at Dean like he was a bug swatting around, annoying him for no reason.

“Yes, your wonderfully eloquent and might I add _colorful_ speech has given me a glance into your advanced plans in this situation,” Crowley rolled his eyes. “Answer me this, then: why are we still talking if I’m so useless and you have an assassin all set to go?”

“I wanted to talk to you,” Sam said. “I saw you in that church. I’ve seen you break, so don’t think you can feign your above-it-all attitude in front of me.” Crowley’s smile disappeared in exchange for a nastier snarl, looking at Sam like he wanted nothing more than to eat his brains as a side for his afternoon tea. Henry had never seen this side of Crowley. It was as close as the demon had ever come to the fury Henry once heard over a speaker phone in a ripped apart hotel room.

“Oh, Sammy thinks he’s all big and bad now,” Crowley said. He pulled a nasty face.

“You’re going to be honest or I’m going to let Kevin go to work on you,” Sam said. “I couldn’t care less. You are slime and you have gotten in our way too many times. So you are going to answer, you are going to be honest, or I’m going to make sure you die slow.” A chill fell across the room as everyone but Dean and Kevin turned to look at Sam. Henry swallowed. This was the dark side of Sam he had avoided up to this point. This was Sam when he had a job to get done and didn’t care what stood in his way. Mary, in particular, looked at Sam in fear.

“Very well, Moose,” Crowley said, voice lighter now. “Ask your question.”

“Is Kevin’s mom really dead?” This time Kevin and Dean also turned to look at the tallest Winchester. Henry was fairly sure that wasn’t even a question Crowley had thought he would ask.

“What, our mutual gal-pal, Linda?” Crowley asked, trying to tuck down his surprise where they couldn’t see it anymore, but he hadn’t been fast enough and he knew it. “Sure, she’s alive. What kind of captor do you think I am?”

“You son of a bitch,” Kevin surged forward but Cas put his hand out, stopping the boy short.

“Why don’t I believe you?” Dean asked.

“Because I’m an untrustworthy person?” Crowley smiled viciously.

“No, you are an untrustworthy bit of demon slime with a smooth voice,” Sam said. “I don’t believe you either, and you know what I said about being honest.”

“And what if I was telling the truth?” Crowley asked, desperation leaking into his voice. “Then you’ll never find her!”

“Tell me she’s alive so I believe you and we’ll see,” Dean said. He reached over to his side where a knife that henry hadn’t noticed was tucked through his belt loop. Dean pulled it out carefully and held it up so that it flinted in the light of the bare bulbs of the dungeon.

“Dean,” Mary said. She came forward but didn’t touch either of the boys. Instead she looked at Crowley head on, taking the same defensive stance Dean had. “You, demon, how many times have you hurt these boys?” Dean looked at her in confusion and Crowley grinned.

“Depends on who’s asking, beautiful,” Crowley crooned.

“I am,” Mary replied with a steady voice. She was steely and alert and, Henry thought, very much like her boys. Crowley sighed and tried to readjust himself in his chair.

“Maybe I have made things a bit _difficult_ once or twice for them,” Crowley said. Dean snorted.

“Made things difficult?” he asked. “That’s a damn fine way to put it.”

“I only fought back when you attacked directly,” Crowley said. This time Sam snorted.

“I’ll take that under advisement,” Mary said. Henry looked at her curiously from across the room. Without flourish, Mary had pulled a knife from her own belt and held it in front of Crowley’s face.

“From what I’ve gathered,” Mary said, “You have caused my boys – and I’m going to include all five of them under that description – a whole lot of pain. And I don’t like that. I’m what some might call over-protective. So tell the truth or you’ll wish they had let Kevin on you.” Mary stepped right up to Crowley in his hair and put her knife against his throat. Crowley gulped, probably more loudly than he wanted.

“Ah, do I see a resemblance?” Crowley croaked. Henry almost smiled at the blatant fear running across his voice like spoiled honey. “You are _so much_ like Dean when you have that knife in your hand.” Mary tightened her grip on the knife and pushed it against his skin harder, drawing a small droplet of blood.

“You spill or I spill you,” Mary said.

“And now I see,” Crowley said, getting that smile back that Henry really hated. “You are your father’s daughter. Well, perhaps a bit more devoted to family than old Samuel was.” Mary’s grip on the knife faltered for just a moment and her eyes dropped some of their steel.

“What are you talking about?” she asked.

“That’s enough, Crowley,” Castiel said, the first words he’d spoken since they entered the room. Henry knew they were on a bad path. Dean had told him about this part of their lives. The resurrected Samuel and the family drama that had followed. It actually had explained a lot about why Dean was so unwilling to trust Henry when he had first shown up, really. One resurrected grandfather was probably too much for any sane person to deal with, let alone two.

“Ah, our angel speaks,” Crowley said. “Thought maybe you had gone mute when you were ejected from high-and-mighty bureaucratic nightmare you call heaven.”

“Tell them the truth,” Castiel said. He lacked the power behind his voice that he once had.

“I am feeling very ganged up on,” Crowley said. “Henry, aren’t you going to join in the Winchester torture party?” Henry kept his face serene and refused to respond. Whatever this was, it was not his expertise by a long shot.

“Well, now you’ve met the family,” Dean said. “I’d tell the lady here what she wants to know. I’ve seen her in action and she kicks some major ass.” Mary had herself under control again and the knife was back at Crowley’s throat.

“Last chance,” she said.

“C’mon, Winchesters, we can get through this,” Crowley laughed through his fear. His eyes were wide with worry and he sat rigid in his chair.

“The truth,” Sam said.

“Let’s have it,” Dean said. When Crowley was silent, looking in turn at each of them, Mary shoved the knife hard and drew more blood. Crowley cried out in a sharp bark of pain.

“Ow, ah, fine, the bitch is dead,” He shouted, trying to move away from the knife. “I killed her, she’s dead.” Mary held the knife steady for a bit longer and finally pulled back abruptly.

“Now was that so hard?” Dean asked. He moved forward and put a hand on Mary’s shoulder, pulling her back. Crowley was breathing hard and blood still trickled down his neck. Henry allowed himself to look over at Kevin and immediately wished he hadn’t.

Kevin was a mess of emotions, but was showing most strongly the rage and despair. He wasn’t crying but it was obvious he wasn’t ok by any definition. His fists kept clenching and unclenching and Charlie approached him timidly, putting a hand on his arm. He didn’t shake it off but he didn’t lean into it either, just clenched his fists over and over like a robot on a loop.

“So now I’ve told you the truth,” Crowley spat, “what are your plans?”

“Unfortunately for you,” Dean said, “we need your room. Kevin?” He didn’t look back at the prophet, just held up his knife, Ruby’s old one with the sigils carved all along its length. Henry heard Kevin sniff deeply and then saw him walk up behind Dean and take the knife from his hand.

“Come now, I was honest,” Crowley said, becoming noticeably more desperate. “We can work this out.”

“Actually, I think you’ve said just about enough,” Dean said. “You’ve fucked with us for way too long and, as someone who has experienced this personally, it feels really damn good to get the demon who got your mom. You’re up, Kev,” Dean stood out of the way and Mary’s eyes followed him sadly. When he got to the doorway he didn’t stop, he walked the rest of the way out of the room and down the hall. Sam followed shortly afterwards, and then Mary and Charlie. Castiel made no move to leave.

As Kevin approached the chair that held Crowley, the demon started to beg and bargain, anything to keep his life, but he was ignored. Henry did decide, though, that he didn’t want to see the side of Kevin that could actually kill the demon and he, too, made his move to leave. On the way out, he stopped to look at Castiel. The man was standing frigidly still, arms at his sides, tall and strong like a marble statue. His eyes were cold and Henry knew instinctively that _he_ wouldn’t look away. He wanted to be there to make sure Crowley was dead.

For a quick moment, Cas turned to look at Henry and he felt his heart run cold. Castiel was closing himself off to every emotion he could, but Henry could see the anger there, bubbling up below the surface. Cas hated Crowley. Hated him. And Henry knew that if Kevin lost his nerve, Castiel would not hesitate to step in. Henry left the room in a quick shuffling of feet. When both Kevin and Castiel emerged from the dungeon a few short minutes (though they felt like the world’s longest minutes) later, no one asked who had done the job. Everyone just knew it was done, and that was enough.

The King was dead.

 

* * *

 

 

“I can’t believe we are doing this,” Dean said, throwing ingredients into a bowl at the center of the now vacant dungeon. It was a day later and the time to summon whatever it was they summoning was drawing closer.

“You agreed because we need to know,” Henry said. Paint dripped from his finger and the fresh series of angelic warding sigils now on the walls of the dungeon. Just in case, they had said. It was just Dean and Henry in the room for now.

“We have no idea what we are bringing in here,” Dean said.

“Isn’t that sort of your whole thing? Going in blind?” Henry asked. Dean pulled a face but didn’t disagree. “It just bothers you that Mary is involved.” Henry added.

“Look, I know it’s stupid to worry. I know she’s a hunter and I’m being overprotective, but I’d prefer that she lived through this.”

“That isn’t a stupid wish,” Henry said. He added a line across the top of the final ward and stepped back to appreciate his handiwork. “Wishing that your mother will live is a pretty fair wish, actually. But she’s going to be fine, Dean.”

“Yeah, I’m sure just repeating that will do the trick,” Dean grumbled. He lowered a rosary into the bowl and tipped a small vile of some sort of dark liquid in after it. “Ok, this is ready.”

“I’m done too,” Henry said, wiping his hands on a damp rag.

“Should we get the team, then?” Dean asked.

“I’ll just text Sam,” Henry said, pulling out his phone. When he looked up, Dean was staring at him in humor-filled disbelief. “What?”

“ _You_ just sent a text?” Dean said with a small laugh. “I don’t even text that much. You didn’t even know what a cell phone _was_ a few months ago.”

“Sam showed me,” Henry said with a shrug. “It isn’t supremely difficult once it’s explained.” He put the phone back in his pocket. “How is Castiel?” Dean clammed up, his face verging on something between embarrassment and annoyance.

“Fine, I guess,” Dean said. He turned away from Henry to regard the wall and its painted wards.

“How is he dealing with humanity, then?” Henry urged. It had only been a day, he knew, but for someone who had been an angel for more years than Henry could even comprehend and had spent the last three weeks very human and slowly losing hope as he made his way to Kansas, Castiel had to be feeling _something_ about being human.

“We haven’t really talked yet,” Dean shrugged. He sounded the highest level of uncomfortable. Henry sighed.

“ _Please_ tell me you are _planning_ on talking to him,” he said. Dean looked up in time for Sam and the others to walk into the room.

“Yeah,” Dean said to henry softly, then turned to face everyone else. _This room was just way too small for this many people at once,_ Henry thought.

“We all set?” Sam asked, looking at Dean and then Henry.

“Do you really text?” Charlie asked from behind Sam.

“Not the time, Charlie,” Dean grumbled. “Yeah, we’re ready. Mom?” He looked to Mary carefully. She was standing steady, ready to go.

“Let’s do it,” she said. She pulled her knife out of her belt for the second time that day and stepped forward towards the bowl. Castiel came forward and put his hand on the small of Dean’s back and Dean leaned into the touch just barely.

“Don’t break the circle,” Dean said. Mary carefully lifted her foot and stepped over the line of holy oil that had been poured in a full circle around the bowl. Henry was trying not to think about the fact that, if they had to light the holy oil, Mary would in all likelihood be trapped inside with whatever they were summoning. Dean was right, this was a terrible plan.

Mary brought the knife to the palm of her hand and cut a straight line across it, bringing fat drops of blood leaking out and into the bowl. She straightened up and turned to face the gathered group.

“What?” she asked. Henry brought his eyebrows together in confusion and glanced at everyone to see they were equally confused.

“No one said anything,” Henry said, looking at her.

“No, I heard someone say to stop,” Mary said, insistent. Henry looked around again at everyone and noticed looking very intently at her.

“Mom, no one said anything,” Sam said gently. “But if you don’t want to do this?” He let the question trail away and Mary clenched her jaw.

“I’m doing it,” she said, turning around and setting her shoulders. She whispered a few lines of Latin that Castiel had written down for her. She stopped and turned around again. “Are you sure no one is talking?” she asked in a hard voice. Dean took a distressed step forward and Castiel flowered with him seamlessly.

“Mom, are you _sure_ you’re ok with doing this?” Instead of answering, Mary turned back to the bowl, whispered the last line of the spell and lit her match. She took a deep breath and threw the match into the bowl in front of her. Some of the dry materials in the bowl flashed into flame immediately. Mary backed away and everyone stood on edge with weapons in hand, facing the bowl and the circle around it. Mary just had cleared the ring of holy oil when a figure flickered into view and Dean dropped a match Henry hadn’t even seen him light into the oil, lighting up the ring in a blaze of holy fire. The man at the center of the flames looked around and shook his head disapprovingly.

“Hey, Dean-o, what ever happened to being on the same side?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, apologies for Crowley. I would be seriously upset if they killed him off in the show. Knocking on wood furiously right at this moment. Also, I'm very close to finishing writing this beast so cheers! Although you guys still have a bit to go. Anyway, comment, kudos, subscribe, etc. Much love! 
> 
> Chapter title from Seven Hells by Brown Bird  
> To listen to a song I wrote while working on this piece which is supposed to be a lullaby from Mary to Dean, go here: http://goo.gl/CGTPPF


	6. Too Dumb to Be Stupid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel has a plan. Gabriel has a stupid, ridiculous plan that he pretty much guarantees everyone is going to hate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have much to tell you on this one. Just enjoy the chapter! Oh, and get ready for a bit of destiel angsty type stuff next week. *celebration noises*

“Gabriel,” Dean growled.

“Gabriel?” Castiel whispered at the same time.

“Hey boys,” Gabriel said with a grin. Henry thought immediately that Gabriel looked nothing how he had pictured. First of all, he had known the archangel was short, but _wow_ was he _short_. His thoughts were interrupted by Kevin shouting.

“That’s him! He was in Sam’s room,” Kevin pointed to emphasize his point.

“You brought me back. And you fixed Sam?” Mary asked. She was pulling a face like she had just smelled something familiar and couldn’t quite place where she had smelled it before.

“Yes, I patched up old Sammy boy and got your bones back in working condition,” Gabriel grinned. He looked around at the ring of holy fire and shook his head disapprovingly. “And this is how you repay me? Tut-tut, boys. You need to work on your manners. And that’s coming from _me._ ”

“You know what,” Dean said, “we’ll talk just as soon as you explain one or two things. Like, why you brought my mom back to life. Or fixed Sam. Or maybe how it is you’re even still alive and have wings that aren’t extra crispy?” Gabriel let out a long-enduring sigh.

“Always the questions with you two,” he said. “We never just talk anymore!”

“Gabriel,” Castiel said quietly. “I would also like to know.” Gabriel turned his grin on Castiel and Henry watched as it fell slowly from his face. He looked upset and confused and, frankly, really angry.

“Cassy, bro,” he said without his playful tone, “are you human?” He stepped forward but was pushed back by the flare of holy fire around him. Dean reached around and grabbed Castiel’s hand, squeezing it tight and not letting go.

“So you understand why we’d really like to know,” he said. Gabriel threw him a quick smile then looked over at Sam.

“So they finally figured it out, then?” Gabriel asked. Sam started smile but shoved it down with a steadying grunt.

“Focus, Gabe,” Sam said. Henry, and probably everyone else in the room, caught the wink Gabriel threw to Sam.

“Fine, I’ll give you answers,” Gabriel said, “Just as soon as you introduce me to the new recruits. I never pegged you Winchesters as the kind to have a team.”

“Oh, I’m Charlie,” Charlie said, coming out from the back of the group. She gave a little wave and Gabriel responded with an awkward wave of his own. He turned to look at Kevin expectantly.

“Um, Kevin Tran,” he said.

“He’s a prophet,” Castiel added. Dean gave him an annoyed look.

“Let’s try not to give him _all_ the information, Cas,” he said.

“Gabriel should know,” Castiel said. “He’s the only Archangel left. It is technically his job to protect Kevin.” Dean looked at Castiel for a few seconds silently then nodded to show his acceptance.

“What about you?” When no one answered, Henry turned to look at Gabriel and found the golden eyes trained on him.

“Henry,” he answered tersely.

“And why do you remind me of someone, Henry?” Gabriel smiled.

“Hey,” Dean interrupted, “you get introductions, not life stories.”

“Fine,” Gabriel sighed. He turned to look at Mary. “I obviously know you well enough. Welcome back to the world; it’s a shit hole.” Mary looked moderately shocked, which Henry thought wasn’t entirely surprising. If he hadn’t already been exposed to four books worth of Gabriel’s personality then he would have assumed all angels were like Castiel: not sure how to quite fit in in humanity and still pious to a point. But not Gabriel.

“Ok, we’re all introduced now, so tell us your story,” Dean said. Gabriel’s smile tightened. He looked down for a minute and then back up, meeting Castiel’s eyes.

“Naomi, ok? I was brought back by Naomi.” The room fell into silence. After the events with Castiel and the Tablet, Naomi’s name had become fairly taboo within the bunker.

“You’ve been back all this time?” Castiel asked, his voice nearly breaking in the middle.

“She brought me back same time as you, kid,” Gabriel said. He again moved as though to walk towards Castiel but was stopped by the fire. He let out a frustrated huff. “You saw me, Castiel. You _knew,”_ he said.

“She made me forget. All of it,” Castiel said. “At the beginning, at least.” He looked down and Dean squeezed his hand, rubbing his thumb along Castiel’s knuckles.

“If you were back already, how is it you haven’t fallen?” Sam asked.

“Ah, so, a few months ago, while Naomi still had her claws in me, there was this huge power shift, man-hunt thing that started going down,” Gabriel began.

“For me,” Castiel said, quietly. Gabriel looked at him sadly.

“Didn’t know that,” he said. “Probably because Naomi knew I’d try and help you. Anyway, while the force was out hunting, Naomi was sort of losing her grasp on those of us whose minds she was holding on to. And me, awesome as I am, I got free and ran. Like you all know I’m good at.”

“Yet you still have wings?” Castiel asked. Gabriel shifted uncomfortably.

“When I got out, I suppressed my grace to the furthest of my abilities, which is pretty damn far. I wasn’t even really an angel anymore,” Gabriel looked down, probably trying to put back on the mask of humor he usually wore.

“Why did you wake me up?” Sam asked.

“And why did you bring our mom back?” Dean added. Gabriel turned to the tallest Winchester first.

“Because, _Sammy,_ I knew Dean was moping and wasn’t going to get off his righteous ass and fix heaven until he had his baby brother back.” In the angel’s defense, he was pretty accurate. Although Henry supposed most creatures on the planet knew about the Winchester brothers’ co-dependence at this point.

“And me?” Mary asked in a strong voice. Gabriel held up his hands in a gesture of surrender.

“Ok, as much as I hate to admit this, you were sort of an accident,” Gabriel said.

“An accident?” Dean said dubiously. “You just happened to bring our mom back to life _by accident?_ Why do I find that hard to believe?”

“Because you are about as trusting as a paranoid schizophrenic at a CIA training camp,” Gabriel said with a grin. When everyone in the room just glared at him in silence, he exhaled loudly. “When heaven started upchucking like it had a ban enchilada, I just grabbed. For anything. Whatever was the closest to the edge of heaven. It just turns out that it happened to be Mary Winchester. It was an _accident,”_ he stressed, throwing his hands out.

“And yet you rebuilt her body instead of returning her?” Castiel asked.

“Bro, haven’t you been listening?” Gabriel asked, annoyance and anger tinging his tone. “Heaven is closed off. There was no ‘returning her’,” Gabriel’s shoulders fell a bit as he spoke and Castiel looked stricken.

“You mean to say it wasn’t just that the angels were ejected from heaven?” he asked in terror-struck tones.

“Souls can’t get into Heaven?” Sam asked. Henry felt ice water rush into his veins, cold and sharp. He couldn’t really feel his fingertips, despite the nearness of the burning holy fire.

“Where are the souls going, then, if they are locked out of heaven?” Mary asked.

“Wow, you guys really haven’t been out of this bunker much, have you?” Gabriel asked.

“Oh,” Charlie’s small voice sounded afraid.

“Yeah, good to know someone has been out in the world,” Gabriel rolled his eyes. Dean looked back and forth between the archangel and the red head.

“Ok, I’m lost. Charlie, what the hell is he talking about?” Dean asked. Charlie swallowed and looked down.

“Well, I didn’t mention it before, because Sam was sick. And then after that I’ve been here, helping you!” She sounded panicked.

“Charlie, just tell us,” Henry said softly.

“Hauntings have increased. Everywhere.” Charlie said, looking down. “More than they have in the history of, like, ever.”

“Souls aren’t moving on to Heaven,” Henry looked at Gabriel, “so they are staying here?”

“Well, shit,” Dean mumbled, shaking his head at the floor.

“Once again Dean-o, your poetic vocabulary sums up the situation perfectly. Now, are we going to put out this little brush fire?” Gabriel asked. Mary looked to Dean for confirmation, which came with a terse nod, and she picked up the fire extinguisher from the corner and began putting the fire out. As soon as the circle was broken, there was the sound of flapping wings and Gabriel was standing directly in front of Henry.

“Henry Winchester, that’s who you are,” Gabriel smiled with an open mouth. His breathe smelled like cotton candy and Henry choked on a cough.

“Yes, that’s me,” he said, silently begging Gabriel to take just a couple steps back.

“What, bringing back one dead relative wasn’t enough for you bozos?” Gabriel asked, not moving from his place yet. “I would have thought that, out of everyone, you’d bring dear old Dad back.”

“Enough, Gabriel,” Castiel said. His hand was on Dean’s arm, although he still looked somewhat calm to Henry. It may have been that Castiel felt Dean’s muscles tense in anger.

“Henry came back first,” Sam said. “And he didn’t die, he jumped forward in time.” Wow, their lives really did sound strange sometimes. Most of the time. Alright, all of the time.

“Well, that explains why you don’t quite smell right,” Gabriel said, mercifully stepping backward a few feet. “You smell like the 50s. I didn’t love the 50s. Now, are you going to release me from the scary, dank room that seems eerily like a dungeon?”

Dean stiffly walked to the wall where Henry had painstakingly painted the angel warding that had ended up being incredibly useful. He grabbed a can of spray-paint from the bag of supplies still sitting on the floor and began putting thick lines of paint over each of them. Gabriel sighed and rolled his shoulders as the last sigil was broken, a self-satisfied smirk breaking over his face.

“Now that is _much_ better,” Gabriel said. “Here’s the deal: if anyone is tracking angel activity, then me being here is like putting a red circle on the map around your bunker. So, I am going to leave you with the stuff to make some hex bags and, until you finish them, I’m gonna hightail it out of here.” Everyone in the room was silent for a moment before Henry felt his brain turn back on.

“Wait, you’re leaving?” he asked.

“Yes, and before that screwed up face of yours can start yelling at me, Dean,” Gabriel smirked in the Winchester’s direction, a look of anger making its way across Dean’s face, “I promise I’ll be back. I can’t leave Castiel alone here with all you humans forever now, can I?” What kind of big brother would I be?” He held up his hands in mock shame, pulling a distressed face before whipping a red colored lollipop into existence. He lifted his hand to presumably bring the hex bags into the bunker the same was but before he could snap, Charlie spoke up.

“Wait, how will you know when we’re done?” she asked. Gabriel smirked at her.

“Hello? Archangel?” He gestured at himself. Then his fingers came together in a loud snap at the same time the sound of wing beats echoed across the dungeon and the archangel Gabriel was gone.

 

* * *

 

 

Sam and Henry sat on the floor of the dungeon, ingredients for hex bags all around them in piles. Sure, Gabriel probably could have put them together with a snap of his fingers because _Hello? Archangel?_ But no. It was just Sam and Henry. He had been right, after all; that dungeon was just too cramped with everyone inside at once.

Sam reached for a couple of small bones from the equally small pile on his left and fit them inside the bag in front of him. Henry fit one copper coin with odd markings inside his own bag, tying it closed with a small length of twine. He checked Gabriel’s instructions, written in overly ridiculous calligraphy on a scroll of parchment like they were on some kind of quest, once more to make sure he had everything and added the bag to the pile of others that were finished.  He picked up another bag and took the change to look up at Sam.

“So,” he began. Sam’s attention was drawn away from his bag to look at Henry. “Did you really just call Gabriel the archangel ‘Gabe’ and get away with it?” Sam smiled slightly and continued putting together his hex bag while he responded.

“Well, live through a hundred Tuesdays together and then both die fighting Lucifer?” Sam said, “I figure we have a mutual right to use nicknames.” Henry nodded, going back to working. He often forgot that Sam had died during the apocalypse. It was odd, he thought, to sometimes forget that _both_ his grandsons had died. Multiple times. Now that he thought about it, over half of the bunker’s inhabitants had died and been brought back to life before. And even of the people who hadn’t _actually died,_ they had brushed against Death close enough that it would have caused an awkward moment if they met him at a party.

“Need help?” a voice asked from the doorway. Mary walked in and sat on the floor, picking up a bag and beginning to fill it before anyone could respond. Sam looked at her sideways with a smile.

“You have questions,” he said.

“Maybe I just wanted to join you,” Mary responded, not looking up. Sam shook his head.

“You are so like Dean,” he said with a smile. “Except he probably wouldn’t answer you, so go ahead and ask me.” Mary looked at him from the corner of her eye and Henry stifled a laugh as he noticed the note at the bottom of Gabriel’s instructions.

“Sorry,” he said, “but did you notice this?” He pointed to the addendum at the bottom of the parchment page, written in equally frilly handwriting.

**_To Dean and Castiel: Congrats on the sex!_ **

Sam and Mary burst into laughter.

“Don’t let Dean see that,” Sam laughed, wiping his eyes. “He’ll find a way to kill Gabriel before he has the chance to help us.” They laughed for a couple more minutes, unable to hold their hex bags well enough to continue filling them.  Finally, Sam took a deep breath and tapped Mary’s shoulder. “Alright, questions. Go.” She sighed and picked her hex bag back up.

“How is it that you know Gabriel?” She asked in a quick rush. “I mean, _the archangel_ Gabriel? Seriously?”

“Why does everyone feel the need to call him by a full title?” Sam laughed. “It’s just Gabriel.”

“Sometimes it’s Loki,” Henry added. Sam nodded.

“Yeah, sometimes Loki,” he said. Mary now looked even more confused than when she had asked the question. Sam took pity. They really were terrible at explaining things. “Ok, have you ever heard of a Trickster?” Mary raised her eyebrows.

“Yeah, I know about them,” she said. “Mega-powerful, enjoy screwing with people have a fondness for sugar—oh!” her eyes widened.

“Yeah, so we originally thought Gabriel was a Trickster. Stabbed him and everything.” Sam said. “Next time we saw him he, uh,” Sam scratched his head, probably trying to find the best way to phrase what he wanted to say.

“Pulled a _Groundhog Day?_ ” Henry said, recalling the movie he had watched about a month and a half earlier. Sam smiled and shook his head, looking down. Mary gave Henry a confused look.

“I don’t know what that means,” she said and Sam’s shoulder looked like they were shaking with silent laughter.

“You’re right, Henry, you are,” Sam said, looking up and looking very much like he was trying not to laugh, “but that movie was actually a bit after Mom’s time.” Mary let out an exasperated sigh and Sam bit his lip.

“Oh, I can explain the plot,” Henry said, remembering the movie. It had been a funny one but when he opened his mouth again, Sam put up a hand.

“We should probably just explain the actual case,” Sam said with an apologetic smile. And Sam did, for the next ten minutes while they filled up the last of the hex bags (Henry forgot how big the bunker was sometimes that it needed this many bags).

Sam made a valiant effort to tell the story in a lighthearted sort of way, but Henry knew he wasn’t really over the whole Tuesday thing yet. Not to mention the fact that, upon reaching the end of the story, they then had to explain why Gabriel was trying to teach Sam his little lesson, which involved telling Mary that Dean sold his soul and went to Hell. All in all, a more serious conversation than Henry thought any of them had wanted to get in to.

Though it did mean that they got to start talking about how Castiel came onto the Winchester scene.

“No, really, he left a mark. Ask to see Dean’s left shoulder sometime. Talk about possessive boyfriend,” Sam said with a laugh. Mary joined in slightly, still uneasy about the rest of the story. Henry tied off the last bit of twine on his bag.

“That’s it, done,” he said, tossing the bag into the large pile.

“I’ll hide them around,” Sam said. He unwound his legs and grunted as he stood up with much more grace that some might show with legs as long as his were. He scooped up the pile of bags and left the room, not before stopping to fit one of the bags behind a filing cabinet in the room just outside the dungeon.

“Can I ask how long it took for _you_ to get all of the information about their lives out of them?” Mary asked Henry once the clunk of Sam’s heavy steps had faded away. Henry stood up and put a hand out to Mary, pulling her up. He brushed off his pants a bit while he talked.

“First of all, I am nowhere near close to knowing everything. And secondly, I didn’t really get it all from them,” Henry admitted.

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” Henry hesitated. The boys were going to kill him, “There are these books…”

 

* * *

 

 

Dean’s loud call of lunch being done brought all of the bunker’s inhabitants together to the kitchen. Sam came in last, a final hex bag in his hand. He gave it a shake and opened a cupboard, sticking it back behind boxes of crackers and a jar of peanut butter.

“And done,” he said, closing the cupboard.

“Took you long enough,” a different voice said. Dean almost dropped the plate he was about to hand off to Charlie as Gabriel appeared right next to him, sipping a milkshake.

“Jesus Christ,” Dean swore, regaining his balance and throwing the Archangel a nasty look.

“Nope, just me,” Gabriel grinned. “You all took your sweet time getting this place off angel radar.”

“You took your time informing us that you were living again,” Castiel said, following it with a large bite from his sandwich. Dean and Sam both gave him comical looks of amused surprise. Castiel didn’t even glance up at them, just focusing on his sandwich. Dean looked over to Henry, who only offered him a confused shrug.

“Since when are you a sarcastic bitch, little brother?” Gabriel asked, but he was looking at Castiel with amusement. Castiel huffed but didn’t respond.

“How did you know we had finished the hex bags?” Henry asked him.

“C’mon, Gramps, you know the answer to this one,” Gabriel smiled at him. Henry felt something inside him snap in half at the now, apparently, accepted moniker of ‘Gramps’.  He really wasn’t going to be able to drop it. He clenched his hands.

“Archangel?” he asked through closed teeth. Gabriel smiled wider and bowed slightly.

“Now you’re getting it,” he said. He took a long drink from the milkshake in his hand, finishing it off with an obscenely loud slurp. A snap of his fingers and the cup was gone, giving Gabriel both hands to rub together like cartoon mastermind.

“So, Dean-o, do I get a sandwich or not?” he asked.

“Not,” Dean grumbled. “I thought you were an archangel. Get your own damn sandwich.”

“Dean,” Mary chastised. He looked up at her oddly. “Make him a sandwich,” Dean stood up, shifting uncomfortably, mouth opening and closing without saying anything. He finally just walked over to the fridge and started pulling out supplies.

“Right,” he said. “But this is it! You don’t even need to eat.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy it,” Gabriel smiled sickeningly sweet, which Henry decided was a term that also applied to the Archangel’s personality in general.

“Gabe, do you actually have a plan,” Sam said, “or are you just running a test to see how long before Dean goes looking for a stake dunked in lamb’s blood?”

“You do remember that those don’t actually kill me, right?” Gabriel asked.

“Doesn’t mean it won’t I won’t enjoy it,” Dean said, smirking and dumping the plate holding a finished sandwich in front of Gabriel.

“Boys, enough,” Mary said, exasperated. Henry nearly laughed at how much she looked like one of those mothers with too many toddlers to deal with at once.

“Returning to the original question,” Henry said. “ _Do_ you have a plan, Gabriel?”

“Oh, I have a plan,” Gabriel said, that same grin never leaving his face, “but it is risky.” A loud sigh turned everyone in the room to face the prophet sitting in a chair at the end of the table.

“What a surprise,” Kevin said, “a risky plan in Winchester hands.” Henry couldn’t say he disagreed.

“Does that mean I’m going to want to run home and get my sling?” Charlie asked, attempting a smile.

“With Gabriel in charge?” Dean asked, “I’d grab your sword and crossbow too.”

“I would, perhaps, just use a gun,” Castiel said. Dean gave a sort of halfway-there laugh and sat down next to Castiel, leaning against his shoulder.

“Alright, let’s hear this plan,” Dean sad, setting his face into a suitably skeptical expression. All eyes in the room turned to Gabriel, who finished his sandwich with a huge bite and licked his fingers individually.

“Right, here’s the deal,” Gabriel, “before I can be totally sure about my _awesome_ plan, I need something from your prophet.” All eyes went to Kevin now.

“What?” Kevin asked, glancing around, “I don’t know what he wants.”

“I need to be sure of what the final ingredient of Metatron’s spell was,” Gabriel said.

“It was my grace,” Castiel said quietly. Dean’s hand went to Castiel’s mid-back, rubbing it slightly.

“Figured that much, thanks,” Gabriel said, “but I need to know the actual wording.” He turned to smile at Kevin, making the prophet shift uncomfortably.

“Well, I did finish decoding the actual ingredients,” Kevin said. He looked uneasily at Gabriel and then stood up, walking into the other room to retrieve his notes.

“So,” Charlie said in Gabriel’s direction, “what was it like telling the Virgin Mary she was knocked up?” Gabriel raised an eyebrow at her, along with everyone else in the room. “What? I’m making conversation,” she said. She looked down when the silent stares continued. Kevin walked back into the room with a stack of papers.

“Let’s hear them,” Gabriel said, gesturing at Kevin. The prophet went to the table and sat down, glancing from his notes to Castiel, of all people.

“’Heart of a child borne from the love between angel and human’ is the first one,” Kevin said. Castiel looked down and swallowed hard.

“That’s the Nephilim heart, then,” Sam confirmed. Kevin read on.

“’The bow of a bringer of love’,” Kevin read.

“Cupid, right, we knew that,” Dean said. “And the grace of an angel.” Kevin looked up at him and then to Castiel.

“Not exactly,” he said. Castiel looked up at him, a question in his eyes.

“Ugh, then what?” Charlie asked. “Stop dragging it out like you’re kicking someone off American Idol.”

“’The grace of an angel in love with a human’ ok?” Kevin read. “That’s the last ingredient.” Everyone’s eyes went to Dean and Cas, sitting next to each other as always. Dean let out a long sigh at the same time Castiel let his head fall forward into his hands. Dean lifted his hand from Castiel’s mid-back and placed it between his shoulder blades instead, rubbing careful circles into his skin.

“It’s ok, Cas,” Dean sighed. “You’re ok.”

“Do you know what to do, then?” Henry asked Gabriel who (mercifully) hadn’t started ribbing either Dean or Castiel. Yet.

“I know my plan will work, yeah,” Gabriel said. He wasn’t quite as bouncy as before, but his smile hadn’t entirely disappeared.

“And that plan is?” Sam urged, frustrated. Gabriel’s grin turned vicious as he met eyes with the tallest Winchester.

“We’re going to break into Heaven.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ingredients for the spell were inspired by this theory on tumblr: http://noangelsinthegarrison.tumblr.com/post/53236896343  
> Oh, and if anyone was interested, you are encouraged to follow ME on tumblr too: http://preparetobemildlyentertained.tumblr.com/  
> To listen to a song I wrote while working on this piece which is supposed to be a lullaby from Mary to Dean, go here: http://goo.gl/CGTPPF


	7. You Gotta Fight For Your Right to Kill The Bastard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If they are going to take on Metatron, some members of team "let's wreck heaven" are going to have to train a little bit more. Although some angels (well, former angels) would beg to disagree.

It was going to take longer than anyone was comfortable with to begin the siege on Heaven. As it turned out, Sam wasn’t totally fixed up yet. Gabriel could do a lot, but it was going to take a couple more weeks for the Archangel’s grace to fully work its way through Sam’s veins. Or so Gabriel said.

Not to mention the fact that they had to make sure Castiel was ready to take on Metatron. If Dean had been displeased when he found out Sam was still sick, then he was full of nearly righteous fury at the idea that, apparently, Cas was going to have to kill Metatron himself.

Without his grace.

“You’re human, Cas,” Dean chastised the man like he didn’t already know. Gabriel had flickered out again for a while doing God knows what and Charlie, Kevin, and Sam claimed research duties, so the kitchen was much more empty now. Henry didn’t know where Mary stood in all of this, but he felt himself siding with Dean.

“Yes, Dean, I am aware of that,” Cas said. He really was getting better at some human characteristics. Currently, Gabriel’s classification as ‘sarcastic bitch’ was fitting more than Henry ever thought it would be.

“You have never had to fight as a human!” Dean said, throwing his hands up. “You won’t have the same strength behind your hits, you can’t just heal yourself, and you can’t just fly away. These are all bad things.”

“Again, I thank you for pointing out how I am less useful than I once was,” Cas said, meeting Dean’s green eyes with his own, flaming in anger.

“He has fought as a human before,” Henry added, attempting not to shrink back when both fuming sets of eyes turned their attention to him instead. “When you cut off Pestilence’s ring you were human. Mostly.”

“Yeah, mostly,” Dean sniffed. Cas glared at him again.

“Do you think me useless as a human, Dean?” he challenged.

“Of course not,” Dean said, rolling his eyes. Castiel puffed himself up in anger, and Henry expected that, if the man had still had wings, they would have been outstretched wide above his head. Still, even without them, Castiel looked the most like a Warrior of God that he had since returning to the bunker.

“You know I am a soldier,” Cas said. “I still know how to fight, no matter my physical limitations.”

“He took you down when you _did_ still have your grace, Cas. Who knows what he’ll do now,” Dean said.

“He beat me because I was not expecting a betrayal,” Cas responded, voice icy.

“Boys, simmer down,” Mary’s voice soothed. Henry winced for her sympathetically as Dean turned his anger towards her instead of Castiel.

“I won’t ‘simmer down’ if he keeps acting like he’s fucking invincible,” he said. Mary didn’t stand down, didn’t even break her stare, and Henry had to hand it to her. Being on the receiving end of Dean’s rage could be overwhelming.

“You mean, you wish for me to not act _exactly_ as you do whenever someone you care for is in danger?” Castiel challenged. “What you want is for me to not live in recklessness the same way I ask you not to every time you run head-on into danger again and again?”

“I am asking you not to make me lose you again!” Dean roared, turning his full attention to Castiel. The man blinked his eyes once and the skin on his forehead softened slightly.

“I can’t promise not to die any more than you can,” Castiel said, voice calmer. The room was quiet for a moment as Dean’s breathing calmed down as well. Mary stepped forward.

“Let him go find and give Metatron what he deserves,” she said, a hand on Dean’s arm. His left arm. Dean glanced down at where her hand was placed and Henry wondered how close it was to the handprint there, which he had still never seen.

“Then we spend the next two weeks making sure you are trained,” Dean said, turning his head but not meeting Castiel’s eyes.

“As you wish,” Castiel said and Dean quirked his lips at the phrase. Castiel crossed the space between him and Dean and lifted Dean’s chin with a finger, making their eyes meet. He lighted a quick kiss on Dean’s lips.

“Remind me to make you watch _The Princess Bride_ ,” Dean said. Castiel shook his head at Dean in amusement and turned away, walking out of the room and down the hall.

“You too, Henry,” Dean said. Henry looked up at him.

“Huh? _The Princess Bride_?”

“What? No,” Dean said. “We need to get you back to training too. Especially if I heard right and Mom here really did kick your ass.” Dean smiled at him slyly along with Mary and Henry glared.

“She took me by surprise,” he grumbled.

“Yeah, I think Cas just used that excuse,” Dean said. He voice carried a strained humor, trying to lighten the mood in the room.

“Henry, you went down way too easy,” Mary said, smile twinkling into her eyes. “I mean, I’ve been dead for 30 years and I still got the drop on you.” Henry clenched his jaw in an annoyed huff and Dean flickered a smile to his mom.

“C’mon, old man, you going to take that?” Dean asked. Henry sighed.

“Yes, fine, training,” he said. Dean laughed at him.

“Can I ask something,” Mary said. Her hand was still on Dean’s shoulder. “Can I see it?”

“See what?” Dean asked, looking at her.

“The… your shoulder,” she responded awkwardly. She let go of him and gestured to the shoulder she had been holding. Dean’s face sank into annoyance and he turned to Henry.

“You told her about that?” he asked. Henry opened his mouth to respond but Mary beat him there.

“Hey, he didn’t tell me. Sam did.” Mary said. Dean opened his mouth but Mary plowed onwards. “And you don’t get to be upset with your brother either because _you_ should have told me first.”

“Yeah, because that’s so easy to bring up in a conversation,” Dean scoffed. “Hey, do you want turkey for dinner? Oh, and by the way, I went to Hell and my angel boyfriend is the one who pulled me out. Want to see the scar?” Henry swallowed a smile.

“Boyfriend?” he asked. Dean waved him off.

“Whatever,” he said. “Fine, I’ll show you. But I’m still going to kick Sam’s ass.” He looked at Mary uncomfortably and then pulled off his top shirt layer, placing it over a chair so he stood there in just a T-shirt. He looked up the ceiling like he was questioning his entire existence, then pulled of the T-shirt too.

Henry wasn’t quite on the right side of Dean to see the mark right. From where he was he could only see a couple of red/pink bits of skin slightly raised. Mary was looking at it head on, eyes wide. Henry circled around Dean just in time to see Mary silently request permission to touch it, holding up her hand and raising an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah, go ahead,” Dean sighed. Henry stared. It wasn’t that he hadn’t known what the mark would look like. He had read about it, sure, but here it was: an actual burn in the shape of a handprint on Dean’s shoulder.

Mary reached out a careful finger and touched the raised skin lightly. She glanced at Dean to gauge his reaction but he barely seemed to notice.

“We should get Charlie in here,” Henry said, quirking one corner of his mouth up. “She’d probably die to see this.” Dean rolled his eyes and grabbed his T-shirt back off of the chair, effectively brushing Mary’s hand away as he pulled it back on.

“And Cas’s hand?” Henry asked, silently begging for a bit more leniency from Dean than he normally got. It worked, apparently, Dean filling in the rest of the sentence.

“Fits perfect, yup,” Dean said. He rolled his shoulder and shrugged on his loose, green, button-down shirt over the lighter T-shirt, leaving it hanging open as he always did.

“Now, don’t think you can distract me forever,” Dean said, turning on Henry. “Time to train, Gramps.” Henry groaned loudly.

“I thought we agreed not to call me that,” he said, cursing Gabriel for bringing the nickname up again.

“I don’t know,” Mary said, smiling the same way Dean was now, “I think it suits you.” So that was the end of it, then. Henry had been with this group long enough to know that the nickname was going to stick, especially for the sake of pissing him the hell off.

Dean wandered out of the room, head held high, and Henry followed quickly after, heading down the same way: to the training room.

 

* * *

 

 

Castiel was already in the room when they got there, arms folded and looking around with interest at the various weapons on the walls. He was still in a pair of jeans and a shirt – from Dean’s closet, presumably. Without the trench coat and suit, he looked more like he belonged in the room than he would have before.

“Alright, let’s start with me and Henry,” Dean said, striding to the middle of the room. Mary stayed just inside the door, leaning against the frame in interest. Castiel backed away to stand near her without saying a word, only keeping his eyes on Dean. Henry sighed and undid his dark blue shirt, pulling it off and throwing it into a corner to reveal his white undershirt.

Henry walked to the middle of the room to stand carefully in front of Dean, looking for the sign that Dean was about to move towards him. He caught the movement every now and then. He was getting better. The spectators by the door stayed quiet still and Henry took a deep breath and settled his feet in. He caught the twitch, a slight movement of Dean’s right arm, and was ready when the other man shot out a punch.

Henry dodged the first blow deftly, jumping to one side and holding up an arm. He moved forward with a couple jabs of his own, but Dean guarded himself with ease and used the distraction to pull a fast fist up into Henry’s stomach.

Henry coughed as the air left him and he heard Mary hiss sympathetically. _What was she even doing here?_ Henry thought. _Was this just supposed to be entertaining?_

He stumbled back a few steps and Dean didn’t attack him, just gave him a moment to catch his breath and lurch forward again, throwing out a right armed punch and following it with a left fist upwards, attempting to catch Dean’s chin, but he missed. Even with his balance thrown off from dodging Henry, Dean still had a better executed response. He used his backwards leaning momentum to kick a leg outward and catch Henry’s knee.

Henry cried out in pain, falling forward and Dean grabbed his shoulder, throwing him to the ground without another blow. The whole exchange hadn’t taken very long and Dean had effectively destroyed him. Henry breathed hard into the matted floor and tried to push himself up.

“Nice job, Henry,” Dean said. He reached out a hand to help henry up, which he took gratefully, swaying to his feet.

“Nice?” Henry asked. He put his hands on his knees and leaned forward. “You demolished me.”

“Not as fast as I used to,” Dean said. Henry huffed in a way that sounded almost like a laugh when something occurred to him.

“I beat you,” he said. Dean gave him a confused look. “No, before Sam woke up. I beat you and that’s why you let me go on that hunt where we found Mary.” Dean glanced at his mother when she was mentioned and looked back at Henry.

“Yeah, you beat me that time,” he said. “Shit happens. You next, Cas?” Castiel opened his mouth but Henry interrupted him before he could start.

“Wait, did you let me win?” Henry asked. He followed Dean’s eyes as they tracked around the room and wouldn’t quite meat Henry’s own. “You let me win! Jesus, Dean, were you really that stir crazy?”

“Yes, as a matter a fact, I was!” Dean said, sticking his hands into his pockets.

“Good thing our job isn’t life or death, I suppose,” Henry said. “Oh wait, it is! What if it hadn’t been Mary who attacked me at the house? What would have happened?”

“Well, it _was_ Mom, so let’s not dwell,” Dean said.

“Dean,” Mary started.

“Cas, you’re up,” Dean said. He turned away from the frustrated looks of both Mary and Henry. Castiel walked forward in the same paced manner he always seemed to and stopped a few feet away from Dean’s turned back.

“I am prepared, Dean,” Castiel said.

“Then let’s go,” Dean turned around and settled himself in. “We’ll start small.” Henry saw the twitch and Dean lashed out but Castiel moved just as fast. There were a couple of limbs thrown out, all faster than Henry could process, and Dean was on the floor with Castiel standing over him.

“Whoa,” Henry said. He practically wanted to clap.

“Damn,” Mary said beside him. Dean groaned and pushed himself up, ignoring Castiel’s outstretched hand.

“Fine,” Dean hugged, facing Castiel angrily. “We’ll go hard.” Cas inclined but didn’t move to any particular stance the way Dean did. This time there was no twitch of warning, and Dean began with a swift uppercut, Cas moving out of the way He grabbed Dean’s arm before the hunter could retract it and pulled him forward and over his shoulder, tossing him onto his back before another punch could be thrown.

“Hey, Dean, need any help there?” Mary called teasingly. Henry grinned at her and chuckled lightly.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Castiel said. “Do I need to lower my skill level?” He said it in that same innocent voice he always used but Henry saw it this time, the same way he sometimes saw Dean’s muscle twitch before he attacked in a fight: Castiel was _teasing._

“Don’t be a bitch, Cas,” Dean said, standing up.

“I don’t intend to be difficult,” Castiel said, “I simply don’t want to hurt you.” Dean steeled up his face to flare at Castiel. Henry got the feeling that, had Castiel been pulling any sort of face, it would have been a smirk.

“Again,” Dean said, rolling the arm Castiel had just flipped him over with. Again, Cas included his head without a word.

Dean, like both times previously, attacked first. He shot out an arm and Castiel blocked him. And again. And again. There was no way Dean could win against the stalwart soldier, and Henry wondered if Dean had already figured that out. Based on the low groan Dean let out as he tried to land a hand on Castiel’s shoulder, the older Winchester did know he wasn’t doing well in this fight.

Finally, with a feigned blow one way, Dean was able to land a strong hand on Castiel’s shoulder, holding the former angel tight as he brought his knee up to him in the stomach. For a moment it looked like Dean might get him, but Castiel’s leg came up in the next moment. He hooked his leg behind Dean’s knee, throwing the man’s balance, and rolled both of them over backwards on the floor, with Castiel finishing inexplicably on top of Dean.

Both men breathed hard and stayed right in each other’s faces. Castiel had both hands on Dean’s wrists, using his weight to hold him down.

“You ok over there, Dean?” Mary asked. Dean shifted and tried to get up but Castiel held him down.

“I am a soldier,” Castiel growled. “I know how to fight, no matter the frailty you seem to perceive I have in this form.” Henry was starting to feel wildly uncomfortable being in this room with the two of them. They were breathing out hot air in each other’s faces and Castiel’s voice sounded low and predatory. A glance over to Mary revealed she was feeling the same way. When they still didn’t break apart, Henry cleared his throat loudly.

“Still in the room,” he said, looking at the wall behind the men on the floor instead of directly at them.

“Cas, get off,” Dean said, pushing against Castiel again.

“Admit that I can fight,” Castiel said. Henry rolled his eyes.

“Seriously, Cas?” Dean asked. “What are you, twelve?”

“No, I am older than you can comprehend,” Castiel said in mild confusion before regaining his angry tone. Mary huffed out a snort. Dean stared directly up at Castiel for another moment in displeasure and then sighed.

“Yes, Cas, you can fight,” He finally said with a sarcastic smile. Cas nodded once.

“Thank you,” he said. He quickly leaned down and landed a light kiss on Dean’s lips before standing up and holding out a helpful hand to the hunter on the ground. Dean faced Henry and Mary with a majestically uncomfortable look on his face. Henry muzzled a smile at the expression. Dean shifted from foot to foot and avoided meeting anyone’s eyes. He opened his mouth to speak but Mary stepped forward instead.

“How about I take on Cas?” she asked. Dean cleared his throat and looked at Cas.

“Of course, Mary,” Cas nodded his head. Dean moved off the floor and stood next to Henry in the doorway.

“So, Dean—“ Henry began.

“Never speak of it,” Dean said. He didn’t turn to look at his grandfather and Henry smiled as Mary and Cas took their positions in the center of the room.

 

* * *

 

 

The days spent waiting for everyone to be ready for the attack on Heaven included more training sessions, occasional movie nights, a few games of poker, and sporadic visits from Gabriel, but it still made everyone feel like they weren’t doing anything at all. Every day Sam would say he felt fine and they would wait for an eventual visit from Gabriel so the archangel could tell him again that no, he wasn’t better and that it would take a few more days.

Charlie left after the first week of waiting, claiming a life outside of the bunker.

“I have a kingdom to run, after all,” she said with a grin. In all fairness, Henry knew Dean wouldn’t have let Charlie come with them even if she had stayed. Still, Henry hated to see her go. She gave a warm hug to each person on her way out. Castile’s hug included a few whispered words that made him blush and henry wasn’t sure he wanted to know what Charlie had said to him.

Mary’s hug was full of huge smiles from both women and a kiss on Charlie’s cheek. Kevin looked like he might not hug her at all but Charlie wrestled it out of him. She reminded him to have one of his games set aside so she could come back and “whoop his ass” soon. Sam’s hug involved Charlie being lifted slightly off the ground by Sam’s huge arms and Dean gave her a light kiss on the head when he pulled her in tight and squeezed her like it was the last time ever.

Henry shouldered Charlie’s bag and walked up the stairs with her, helping her heave all of her things into the little green car she had driven here. Always a different car, Henry noticed, but they were all the same level of almost _too_ brightly colored. That was just Charlie, he guessed.

“Well,” Henry said, closing the car door. “It’s always good to have you around, Charlie.”

“No need to be formal about it, Gramps,” Charlie responded with a wink. She closed the gap between them and pulled Henry into a warm hug. The people in the bunker were not overly physical people – except Dean and Cas – so Henry sometimes forgot how therapeutic a nice hug could be. He felt so secure and strong, just holding onto someone he cared about deeply. He waved when Charlie drove away until he couldn’t see her car anymore and had a moment to hope, desperately, that this wouldn’t be the last time he saw her. That this siege on Heaven wasn’t as stupid as it sounded and that they might actually make it out. Maybe it didn’t fall within the realm of “Winchester luck” but it was still something to be hoped for.

He took a single moment to have this thought before another blur of red hair appeared next to him in a flash and a vice-like hand gripped his arm tight enough that Henry cried out in pain.

“Hello, Henry-boy,” a familiar voice said. “Did you miss me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoping you all know what's coming with this little cliffhanger. You'll get the next chapter... next week. Thanks for reading :)  
> To listen to a song I wrote while working on this piece which is supposed to be a lullaby from Mary to Dean, go here: http://goo.gl/CGTPPF


	8. This Hell You Put Me In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting captured by a Knight of Hell isn't exactly as bad as you might think. It is, in fact, far worse than you probably want to imagine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, much longer chapter, but I wanted it to all be here for you to enjoy. Lots and lots of Henry on this chapter. And a warning for some more graphic content, I suppose.

She had moved him in a flash, a snap of the fingers, and Henry couldn’t see the now familiar rocky terrain that marked the Men of Letters bunker. Before he could process enough to call for help, he was standing in a dank cabin that smelled like burnt plastic and rancid eggs.

The cabin (at least, it certainly appeared to be a cabin) was dark, and multi-roomed. The bedroom Henry was in had an old 4-poster bed with sheets and a quilt on top that looked like they hadn’t been washed in years. A rocking chair sat in the corner that had a vile stain in the seat, dark and big. Dusty curtains that might once have been yellow draped uncomfortably across the window that revealed it to be after dark outside.

“Get comfy,” Abaddon said with a grin and the vice-like grip disappeared, along with the person it belonged to.

Henry felt like he couldn’t breathe. Months had gone by since that first appearance of Abaddon and yet here she was again. And, from what he would tell, Henry figured she knew where the bunker was now. He walked up the length of the room, each floorboard creaking dangerously as he went. He went to the window first and found it, unsurprisingly, locked tight. It was too dark outside to make out much of anything besides trees right next to the cabin.

He turned away from the window and went to the bed, kneeling down in front of it and then getting on his stomach. He crawled his way under the bed and belt along the under edge for anything he could use. It was a spring mattress, Henry found. He thought about how hard it would be to remove one of the springs and ruled it out almost immediately. No, not that desperate. Not yet. A buzz set off in his pocket and Henry wacked the back of his head on the bed in surprise. He backwards crawled his way out from underneath, cursing as he went both for smacking his head and forgetting he had a _goddamn phone_ on him.

He pulled the phone from his pocket as soon as he cleared the bed and hit “answer” with a sharp jab of his thumb.

“Dean?” he asked. He was met with static from the other end. Once every couple of seconds, Dean’s voice could be heard breaking through the white noise.

“Hen… ere… you?” Dean was shouting on the other end. Henry looked around the room quickly and willed Dean mentally to _please be quieter._

“Dean, Abaddon has me,” Henry said. “I don’t know if you are getting this. It was Abaddon. I’m in a cabin. Dean, she knows where the bu—“ the phone was wrenched from his hand and flung against the wall in a single movement, effectively shattering it. Abaddon laid a heavy hand on Henry’s shoulder and pulled him up to a standing position with painful speed.

“Now, now,” Abaddon tutted. She tossed a lock of hair over her shoulder. “We can’t have you making calls. This isn’t a social event. This cabin is a private retreat! We wouldn’t want it suddenly overrun, now, would we? All of its secluded charm would be lost.”

“How are you alive?” Henry ground out the question though a clenched jaw. Abaddon looked like him like he was a child asking for a dragon for Christmas.

“I don’t think you’re really in the ‘need to know’ circle on that piece of information, Honey.” The pet name was spat at him like poison and Henry fought not to flinch back. Abaddon shook her head at him. “So, since you didn’t make yourself comfortable, I’ll have to get some friends to do it for you.”

A big-shouldered man in a wife-beater walked in the room first with a businesslike expression on his crooked jaw. He was followed by a thin woman in jeans and sneakers with the same expression, dragging a wooden chair behind her. The chair made a loud squealing noise as it hit each of the floor boards.

“Meet my faithful employees,” Abaddon grinned without teeth. She finally let go of Henry’s shoulder and took a step back. The woman let the chair fall down onto its four legs equally with a loud thud. “Now won’t you take a seat, Henry?” Henry looked up at the man who had entered first. He had a scar across the bicep of his left arm that was about 2 inches long and he held a length of rope wrapped around the same shoulder. He glanced around the room quickly one last time before deciding that there didn’t appear to be any quick fixes he had access to. He walked forward and fell into the chair lightly, placing his arms on the arm rests in preparation.

“Abaddon,” Henry said. The man came forward and began wrapping the rope around Henry’s torso first. “To what do I owe the displeasure of seeing you back in one piece yet again?”

“A Knight of Hell is not so easy to dispose of,” Abaddon said. She began pacing around the chair. “You and your bricks-for-brains grandsons underestimate me.” Henry hissed in pain as the rope around his chest was pulled almost unbearably tight.

“How much more are you going to put that body through before you give it up?” Henry asked. He tried to shift his arms around but they were too firmly bound.

“Oh, I think Josie is going to continue her jaunt as the little-black-dress of meat suits for a while longer. You should hear her screaming,” Abaddon said. Henry felt his blood start to boil at the idea of Josie – beautiful, young, intelligent Josie – trapped inside her own mind, seeing her body do unthinkable things. The two demon (Henry assumed) henchmen stood back against the wall on either side of the door, maintaining that same business-like expression. Whoever they were, Abaddon had them well-trained.

“Josie used to be beautiful,” Henry said, fixing Abaddon’s facing figure with a glare. “Until her body was stolen by a viper that just can’t seem to win, no matter how smart she _thinks_ she is.” The punch came out of nowhere, smashing into Henry’s jaw with painful speed. He felt his teeth dig into his cheek and tongue all at the same time, and could swear he felt his brain rattle around in his skull a bit. Abaddon unclenched her hand and stretched out the knuckles in disinterest.

“Don’t test me, Henry,” Abaddon said in a bored voice. “I don’t like it.” Henry gave a mirthless laugh. _Who the hell did she think she was? Hadn’t she already died twice at the hands of his family?_ He spat at the floor in a nasty combination of 13% saliva, 87% blood and tried to wipe his chin off on his shoulder in as dignified a manner as possible.

“I’m done testing you, Abaddon,” Henry said. “At this point I just like pissing you off. Call it the result of a bad influence.” Henry wondered if Dean would be proud or would kick his ass for taking after him, but for now just bringing his grandson up was enough to keep him calm. There were people coming. Dean and Sam knew something was up. They would come for him.

“We’ll see how long this new, _brave_ side of you lasts,” Abaddon said. She walked closer to Henry. “Tell me what I need to know and I’ll kill you fast. That’s the deal.” Henry thought about rolling his eyes before he realized that that was possibly even breaching Dean-levels of stupidity. He settled for an uninterested glance at the window.

“Sure,” he said. No way Abaddon would let him out of this one, so why bother pretending?

“Good,” Abaddon said. “Now, where is Crowley?” Henry gave himself a minute to process. Did she really ask about _Crowley?_ He raised a curious eyebrow.

“Crowley?” he asked.

“Yes, Crowley,” Abaddon folded her arms and straightened her stance. “That dick in a suit who was playing dress-up as King.” Henry almost wanted to laugh. He was sitting in a cabin in the middle of nowhere with a Knight of Hell whose information was _at least_ a week out of date. Some of his amusement must have shown up on his expression because Abaddon’s frown became pronounced and she nodded her head at the female demon by the door. The demon made her way to Henry’s side quickly and grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking him up painfully. Henry felt the strain in his neck and tried and failed again to move his arms.

“Talk,” the demon said with a growl directly into Henry’s ear, hot and breathy. Abaddon came forward until she was directly in Henry’s face. She leaned down and breathed across his mouth, centimeters away. Her hand lifted and she ran a manicured nail all along Henry’s neck from side to side. Chills threatened to wrack Henry’s whole frame and he gripped the chair more tightly. He sent another mental cry of help out into the world and then took a bit more of Dean’s influence to smile and speak.

“I haven’t had this many women all over me in ages,” Henry said. He took a quick breath. “Sorry, _honey,_ no dice.” Abaddon looked him in the eyes for another few seconds dangerously before throwing herself away from him. She nodded to the other demon, the man, by the doorway who started to come forward. He stood in front of Henry and the last thing the Winchester saw was the slightly dirty wife-beater before everything went black.

 

* * *

 

 

Henry felt consciousness returning to him like it was macaroni and cheese falling through a sifter. That is, it came very, very slowly in bits and pieces. The first thing he became aware of was the pounding pain in his head, on the left side. The pain radiated outwards along lines that felt like lightening in every corner of his brain. His cheek hurt too, now that he thought about it. A slight prod of his tongue revealed the skin there was raw. Carefully, Henry opened one eye just slightly.

The light almost blinded him. He had been in the dark for too long. The shine of the sun sent another ice pick of pain into his brain and he jammed his eyes closed again. Henry tried to calm himself. _Think. What was the last thing you remember?_ He tried to go back and found the image of a dirtied wife-beater. Right. That’s what was happening. He tried to open his eyes again. This time he was more prepared.

The light was shocking, but didn’t threaten to destroy him like the last one had. He was in the same room as before, still tied down to the damned chair. His wrists were chafing badly and one of them had started to bleed just a bit. The room seemed to be empty, although he could only see the area that was in front of him, which limited what he actually knew, and wasn’t that just comforting?

He tried to turn his head to get a look out the window again but the muscles in his neck stopped him short. They were stiff from sitting up in the chair for all those hours and, no, there was no way he was going to be able to turn even a little bit. Henry felt ready to scream at the ceiling when the door creaked open.

The woman from earlier (how much time had gone by, anyway? How long had Henry slept in his knocked-out stupor?) entered with a slamming of the door against the wall.

“Look who’s awake,” the woman said. She walked up to Henry and stood directly in front of the chair. She grabbed his hair like she had before and Henry felt that fresh wave of pain tear across his head. The demon’s eyes flashed with black iridescence and she grinned dangerously. “I can’t wait to have more fun with you.”

“You won’t get anything from me,” Henry said breathily.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” the demon replied. “Now, where is Crowley?”

“Crowley? Never heard of him,” Henry said. The demon yanked on the handful of hair she had a firm grasp on and a large chunk came free with a terrifyingly loud rip. Henry squeezed his jaw so tight he thought his teeth would break.

“Try that one again,” the demon growled slowly. Henry thought around his own head for a minute, even just to get a handle on the pain. They wanted Crowley, for whatever reason. He knew Abaddon was pissed that Crowley had taken to running hell, but why did she need him now? As far as he could figure, though, the only thing to do was give himself more time. He needed to stretch out time until Dean and Sam could find him. And that meant stalling. He swallowed thickly.

“Sorry, haven’t seen him around in a while,” he said, still breathing hard. The demon woman smiled without teeth and removed a knife from her belt, dangling it in front of Henry with an easy sway of her wrist.

“Fine then,” she said, “I always did prefer the hard way.”

 

* * *

 

 

Henry started to worry around the one-week mark. Yes, fine, he was in the middle of god-knows where and it wasn’t like he had given Dean a lot to go on, but he was losing hope. Around what he thought was day four, Henry had finally told Abaddon that Crowley was dead but it got him nowhere. He was met with absolute resistance. Abaddon refused to believe him. The other two demons (who apparently called themselves Ace and Xandra) had given each other concerned glances behind her back but remained quiet.

If he had to say what his injuries were, Henry would probably want to not even think about it. He knew a couple of fingers on his right hand were broken. This had happened when Ace had shattered a finger on Henry’s left hand and Henry had responded with a bark of pain followed by a sarcastic, “Good thing I’m right handed”. In hindsight, probably not his best line.

There was a line of blood steadily dripping from his leg at this current moment. The trickle of liquid was unpleasant and it driving Henry crazy to not be able to wipe it off. What the fuck was he even thinking anymore? He had steadily bleeding wound on his leg and his complaint was the fact that he couldn’t clean up the dripping blood? When had he become like this?

A dull yelling started to break out on the other side of the door and Henry strained to listen. They had started fighting right after he told them that Crowley was dead. Apparently Abaddon’s loyal minions weren’t actually all that loyal. Now it sounded like they were having basically the same argument they had been having for days.

“If Crowley is dead then we don’t even have a reason to stay,” Xandra said. Henry pictured her clenching her hands along her sides with tight arms.

“If Crowley is dead then we have _every_ reason to stay,” Abaddon responded. She sounded like she was speaking through clenched teeth, getting in the occasional hiss.

“We have tried, Abaddon,” Ace said. “They won’t accept you downstairs. Not while Crowley is around.”

“Loyalty to that filth,” Abaddon scoffed, “to that pretender. A _salesman_ running Hell.”

“No one believes he is dead,” Ace said.

“Then we get him to give us proof, _Ace,_ ” Abaddon spat the name like it burned. Henry sensed the end of the argument and tried to steady himself for the next onslaught. What else could they actually do? He had told them the truth about Crowley. And there was no amount of proof he would offer Abaddon, or anyone else.

When the door to the bedroom opened, all three of them entered. Ace and Xandra were wearing the same thing they had worn for the past week, but Abaddon was wearing something new. Tight, black jeans and a crisp, purple shirt that was unbuttoned to some pretty drastic lengths, along with a pair of black stilettos. Every now and then Abaddon would disappear, and it looked like this time she had been somewhere with a dress code. Or she just felt the need to look like an unspeakably sexy businesswoman for some reason. Her shoes clicked as she marched across the room and right into Henry’s personal space.

“Now, Henry,” she said, “you know how I feel about lying. So let’s save some time and why don’t you tell me where Crowley is?” Henry groaned loudly and rolled his head back.

“For the last time,” he said, “Crowley is dead. As a doornail.” Abaddon smiled and grabbed Henry’s left hand in a quick movement. She squeezed the fingers together and Henry screamed loudly, gaining control of himself enough at the last moment to let the scream finish off in a breathy, humorless laugh.

“Henry, I asked for the truth,” Abaddon said, not letting go of the hand for another couple of seconds.

“He’s DEAD,” Henry leaned forward and yelled it directly into Abaddon’s face. She growled deep in her throat and put her other hand on the opposite arm rest of the chair and shoved. Hard. Henry had a moment to think how _oh shit this is going to hurt_ when the whole chair tipped backwards and he landed on the floor, smacking his head dangerously. If Henry were a doctor, he would have to say that the damage done to his head in the past week was probably going to make him less and less of a reliable witness. Someone should probably inform the demon brigade that the head is not the best option. Even that psychopath from the _Batman_ movie Charlie and Dean had made him watch a few weeks ago agreed. Don’t start with the head.

Oh, good. Now he was agreeing with psychopaths. And the award for best way to handle abduction and torture goes to (drumroll please) _not_ Henry Winchester.

“Where is he?!” Abaddon screamed. She kicked Henry in the stomach and he felt like maybe he might be close to blacking out. See, this is where he was coming from with the head injury thing. Head injuries just don’t work well for those you want to torture. “Tell me!”

“How idiotic are you, Abaddon?” Henry yelled, wishing he could just fall into pieces. “He is dead. Dead, dead, dead. I don’t know what else to tell you. What happened to the calculating bitch from Hell that I seem to remember from a few months ago?” Abaddon wrenched her leg back and drove it into Henry’s stomach again. Then she lifted her pointed heel and put it on Henry’s bruised cheek. Oh, Jesus, this one was really going to hurt.

“Abaddon, stop,” Xandra said just as Henry felt the pressure on his cheek increase. Abaddon looked up at Xandra with rage.

“You don’t tell me what to do. Ever,” she spat. “You know we need this.”

“He doesn’t know anything,” Ace said.

“I get the feeling,” Henry coughed and spat from the floor, “that your organization is slightly smaller than you lead me to believe.” Abaddon’s heel cut across his cheek and Henry felt his skin rip open and blood start to drizzle its way out.

“We risked everything siding with you,” Xandra said, ignoring Henry completely. “You swore we would lead Hell by your side and look at us! We’re still stuck in the same fucking cabin that we started in a month ago. Your plans are shit, and you know it. Maybe Crowley is dead, maybe not, but you are old news.” Abaddon sneered at her with her arching, red lips.

“You think they’ll take you back, traitor?” she asked. She removed her heel from Henry’s face and he released a quick breath of relief before turning his attention back to the argument. They made it a point never to argue in front of the captive (at least they had _some_ good qualities as captors) but this was turning into a new kind of battle.

“I think we’re better off on our own than we are with a bitch like you,” Xandra spat. Ace simply nodded. Henry figured Xandra was the lead on this one.

“You’ll be dead in a week without my protection,” Abaddon said. She took another step forward, and another, each clicking across the wooden floor sharply.

“You keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel bubbly inside,” Xandra said. Her arms continued to be clenched at her sides, her muscles pulsing from the tense nature of her stance. “But I think you already know that you’re dead and you just refuse to accept it. I’d rather not be there when you finally figure it out.” With that, Xandra disappeared, closely followed by Ace and Abaddon let out a screech of anger. She grabbed the dresser next to the closet door and threw it across the room. It shattered as it hit the wall and some of the pieces flew past Henry’s face as he lay on the floor with clenched shut eyes.

Oh, God, what would it even feel like to have slivers in your eyes?

“You will give me proof,” Abaddon said from behind Henry. He tried to turn his head but she lifted his whole chair up before he could, righting it and turning it all at once so she was in his face all over again. She grabbed his ear with one hand and yanked him in so their lips were almost together. “You will show me proof he is dead or I will tear you apart limb from limb and I will make it hurt like you can’t even imagine. I am a Knight of Hell and I intend to be Queen.” Henry felt his vision blackening; light-headedness bloomed from the quick change in positions. He felt his head swirling and his eyes crossing.

“What is a Queen without subjects?” he drowsily asked and then the darkness consumed him.

 

* * *

 

 

Henry’s dreams faded in and out without any sort of connection between them. First he dreamt of John, back when he was only four years old and Henry could tuck him in every night before he went off to study more for the Men of Letters. He couldn’t even hear what John was saying to him as he ran his hand through his son’s dark hair, but it didn’t matter. He could almost smell the scent of that room, all full of John’s toys and John’s imagined worlds.

The scene swirled together and he is in the hospital with a hole in his stomach, just wanting Dean and Sam to get back but they never do. He lays in bed for days and days, and then weeks, and he is still alone. He calls the phone Dean left for him and gets Dean’s voicemail.

“Dean Winchester, leave a message. Unless this is Henry. In that case, just give it up, Gramps,” followed by a dark chuckle, then the message beeps and the phone melts in his hands and Henry feels like he is dying all over again.

When the scene changes this time, he is in the bunker. Alone. Every room is dark except the one he is in: the library. When he tries to leave, he just ends up back in the same room all over again, sitting with a pile of books in front of him with no idea what to do. There is no phone anywhere that Henry can see. A record starts playing on its own somewhere in the next room and haunting notes flow through the halls ominously. It starts out as the song he danced to at his wedding and then morphs, combining with Dean’s off-key rendition of _Dead or Alive_ until they are playing faster and faster, all mashed up together. It is like screeching, and he can’t get away from it.

Henry tries to cover his ears but the music just gets louder. The image of himself dancing at his wedding is ripped from his mind and replaced by screaming, faceless masses of black ooze. He is being ripped apart, all to that same tune. He isn’t in the bunker, he is in that horrible cabin, but it is all melting. The slats of the walls drip and drizzle away until everything is just darkness and he is being carefully torn limb from limb. He can still hear Dean’s voice telling him, louder and louder, “Just give it up, Gramps” until he finally wakes up.

 

* * *

 

 

He woke up screaming, which wasn’t unexpected considering the topics of his dreams. Henry breathed heavily, trying to regain control of himself. He couldn’t even remember precisely what it was he had been dreaming about, he just knew it had terrified him. He had the barest sense of _Dead or Alive_ playing in his mind, but that was all. He was so wrapped up in trying to remember what it was that had scared him so badly that he failed to even notice, for a minute or two, that he wasn’t alone in the room.

Abaddon sat across from him, but she looked… deflated, was the word he would have to use. Her usual self-confidence and deathly smirk were gone, along with her heels and nice shirt. She was wearing a black T-shirt that just had a white circle graphic in the middle, curling in on itself until it stopped in the center of her chest. She was wearing a pair of what looked like men’s-style black shoes. Nice ones. Her hair was still that flaming red that Josie’s always had been, but it had fallen limp around her face and her makeup was nowhere near perfect, as it normally was.

In short, she looked like a mess.

“Henry,” Abaddon said. Henry gave her a cursory glance to try to get a read on where her mind was, if he should be fearing for his life or not, but he got nothing. She was still good at only showing certain emotions. Still putting on a show.

“Yes?” he asked cautiously.

“Leading wasn’t always this hard,” she said. It was pretty damn far from what Henry had expected her to say, but he kept his mouth shut about it. “Centuries ago, Knights of Hell were respected above all else, save Lucifer himself. We were absolute, the rulers of the underworld, and now look at me. Undone by a salesman who, by all accounts, is apparently dead.” Henry contemplated a response for a moment and then decided firmly on the “fuck it all” way of doing things.

“You expect me to feel bad for you on that one?” he asked. He prepped himself to be knocked down again but it didn’t happen. Abaddon didn’t even move except to crack a small, wry smile.

“Oh, no, I didn’t think you would,” she said. “But it seems you are the only one who will listen to me, even if it’s by force.”

“Hey, what else is a kidnap victim to do but listen to the complaints of his captor?” Henry asked. Abaddon leaned back in her own chair and stared at the ceiling listlessly.

“Do you ever wonder what would have happened if you hadn’t made it to the future?” Abaddon asked. She lowered her head again to look Henry in the eye.

“Yes,” Henry said. “All the time.”

“And?” Abaddon asked. She rolled her eyes and the tell-tale smirk that she usually wore came back just slightly.

“And I would have probably died that night,” Henry said. “You would have killed me, you would have taken over, and the world would have ended. Just your basic stuff.” Henry sighed deeply. At this point, he just wanted the conversation to be over. He wondered if Abaddon would kill him right away or if she would insist on parading him around to other demons, trying to make them believe that Crowley was dead. It was going to be one or the other. That was just the way his life went.

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Abaddon said. Henry looked up at her sharply. “I would have killed you and none of this would have happened. But I guess I’ll have to award myself the honor of killing you now, just to satisfy what _should_ have happened.” Henry let out a sigh that probably went down to his bones. So, immediate death after all.

“Would you at least untie me?” Henry asked. “So that I can die standing up?”

“Giving up so easily?” Abaddon asked. She sounded so, so tired. About as tired as Henry felt, although she didn’t have all of the bruises and open wounds to go along with the fatigue.

“It’s just that I don’t really see a way out,” Henry said, gesturing slightly with his hands and wincing as the rope scraped the raw wounds along his wrists. “And it is a matter of pride, more than anything. Winchesters like to go out fighting.” He smiled dryly and Abaddon returned it.

“Fine then,” Abaddon stood up. Her feet didn’t click on the floor like they had with the heels. They sounded clumpish and thick as she made her way over to Henry and untied him. His muscles were a level of stiff he had thought was impossible. Henry lifted one arm and felt his shoulder scream in response, but he was insistent. He rubbed his wrist with one hand and then put both palms on the arm rests and forced himself to a standing position.

His legs threatened to collapse from underneath him and for a minute Henry thought he might throw up from the pain, but he held it together. With Abaddon in flat shoes, it turned out, she was just slightly shorter than him. She was smirking at him.

“Ready, Henry-boy?” Abaddon grinned.

“Not so fast, Abby,” a voice said from the doorway. Henry turned quickly and felt his knee give out just in time for the sound of a gun going off to shake his eardrums. Abaddon’s head jerked backwards as the bullet hit and she growled loudly, ripping her head back up to glare at Dean Winchester.

“Same old tricks, Winchester,” Abaddon said. Henry wanted to cry when he saw Dean walk the rest of the way into the room, closely followed by Sam, Mary, and Cas.

“Why learn new ones when the old ones work so well?” Dean grinned. Abaddon clenched her hands and tried to move but found herself stuck the same way she was the last time she got stuck with devils-trap carved bullet. At last, Sam was at Henry’s side. He took Henry’s right arm and Cas was right there at the left arm, both of them lifting him up.

“You ok, Henry?” Sam asked. Henry threw his arm over Cas’s shoulders and took a shaky step forward.

“Yes, I am now,” he said. He glanced backwards at Mary and Dean, both of whom still had guns trained on Abaddon. They both had machetes tucked through their belts that Henry was sad he wouldn’t be able to see in use.

Henry continued unsteadily on his feet through the main area of the cabin, which he had never seen before, until he finally made it to the front door and Cas and Sam led him out into the fresh air.

It was like breathing for the first time.

“Oh, thank God,” he exhaled. Cas smiled softly at his side.

“He’s not the one that deserves the thanks,” Gabriel’s voice said. Henry turned to look straight ahead to see Gabriel leaning nonchalantly against the Impala, sucking on a lollipop.

“Never thought I’d be happy to see you,” Henry laughed slightly.

“You aren’t alone,” Cas muttered and Henry felt himself laughing more loudly, building to hysterics.

“Whoa, Henry, how are you doing?” Sam asked and Henry wiped his eyes of the tears that were pouring out as he laughed more and more.

“I’m fine,” he said. Castiel and Sam looked unsurely at him but didn’t say anything. “I’m just glad to see my family.”

 

* * *

 

 

Gabriel apologized for missing the “emotional” drive back to the bunker and, after fixing Henry up with a flare of angelic light from his palm, disappeared with the distant sound of flapping wings. Sam and Cas finished leading him back to the car, where they opened the door to the backseat and let him sit down. In all honestly, Henry never wanted to sit down again, but his legs demanded it. Sinking down against the familiar interior of the Impala, though, was like heaven. It felt like home. Henry closed his eyes and just breathed in for a moment, smiling slightly.

Dean and Mary emerged from the house a few minutes later with a variety of differently sized boxes made of different types of metal.

“How you doing, Henry?” Dean asked. He went to the back of the Impala and lifted the trunk, lugging a couple of the boxes in. Mary followed quickly after him.

“I’m fine,” Henry said, and it really was the truth. He was fine. Abaddon was broken, she hadn’t destroyed him because she was already fairly destroyed all on her own. And now it was over so, yeah, he was fine. Well, except for the fact that they now had to break into heaven and kill Metatron, but that was a minor thing.

“Good,” Dean said. “You had us all worried.” He walked to the backseat and looked at Henry for a minute uncertainly before putting a hand on his shoulder and giving it a firm squeeze. “Anyway, home,” he said. He removed his hand from Henry’s shoulder quickly and walked to the front door, dropping into the driver’s seat. Sam rolled his eyes and walked around to the other side of the car.

Mary slid in first, settling into the middle seat in the back, and Sam got in next to her after some impressive leg contortions. Cas fell into the passenger seat like it was the most natural thing in the world and nodded at Dean to let him know all was ready.

“What did Abaddon want from you, Henry?” Cas asked him. Henry turned to meet Castiel’s blue eyes. The former angel had twisted himself around so he was able to look at Henry head on. It didn’t look comfortable but Cas didn’t seem to mind.

“Crowley,” Henry admitted with a deep exhale. Cas’s eyebrows came together in confusion and the other three people in the car all turned to look at Henry in odd mixes of confusion and incredulity.

“Crowley?” Dean asked. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” Henry nodded. “Apparently Hell didn’t take kindly to a hostile takeover. They seem to be fairly loyal considering the fact that they are, you know, demons.”  

“Well,” Sam said from the other side of Mary, “I can honestly say I expected her to be a bigger villain for us but I’m not complaining.” And that was the end of it. Henry’s was relieved, to be totally truthful. Having to talk about the week he had spent would have made it all more real and, for the most part, he would have just preferred to pretend it hadn’t happened at all.

As it turned out, the cabin Henry had been held in for the past week was in Northern California, and honestly it wasn’t _that_ far away from civilization. It did, however, mean a very long drive back to Kansas which included more bathroom breaks than Dean liked. On their third break, as they were making their way ever closer and closer to the Utah boarder, Dean braked harshly in front of an AM/PM.

“We drive with minimal breaks,” he said through ground teeth. “I said at the last fucking gas station for everyone to go.” Cas shrugged and opened the car door, getting out and then turning to Dean with a sorrowful expression.

“I’m not used to human needs, Dean,” he said and turned on his heel to go into the station. Damn, he was learning fast. Or maybe Cas had always known exactly which of Dean’s buttons to push and just how much sway he had over the Winchester. He probably had, the smug bastard.

“If anyone else had asked to pull over Dean would’ve skinned them,” Mary whispered in Henry’s ear. He smiled and muffled a small laugh. Dean still gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles.

“If you have to use the bathroom, the time to go is now,” he growled. His shoulders stayed tight. Sam leaned around Mary so both she and Henry could see him and pulled a face that seemed to say ‘we appear to have upset daddy’ and then opened his car door. Mary snorted loudly and followed him.

“I’m just going to go get a snack,” Henry said in as calm a voice as he could muster. Dean twitched a muscle in his hand to signal his understanding and Henry got out with careful steps. Sam was right. If anyone else had asked to pull over there would have been an extra seat available in the Impala shortly afterwards. Henry was still chuckling to himself when he got inside the gas station. He hadn’t eaten very well in the last week due to, well, mainly the torture, so he headed for the chip aisle first. Henry tried to scan names quickly and pick an option, knowing Dean was outside with steam starting to come out of his ears like he was some kind of cartoon, but his stomach wasn’t happy and if anyone had a decent excuse to be looking for snacks it was Henry. Sure, he’d found a sandwich at the last stop, but his stomach was up and growling for more.

A few more glances at the stuffed racks left Henry to conclude that the store was, in fact, out of Pringles. Which just wasn’t fair. Henry groaned at a volume to match drama-queens everywhere and turned to the 15-year-old kid who was stocking water bottles in the cold fridge area.

“Hey, kid, are you really out of Pringles?” The kid didn’t move. Henry glanced at the boy’s blue vest and intentionally roughed up jeans in a general level of disinterest and rolled his eyes. “Kid, come on. Pringles? Anywhere?” The kid stood up slowly and faced Henry, red-eyed and bored.

“No, but we have some Ruffles over there,” the kid waved a hand and then turned back to his job. Ruffles. Perfect. A week of being tortured and being fed minimal food and the damn store couldn’t even be bothered to stock Pringles, for hell’s sake. In addition, he felt so tired it ached in his bones. Would a damn cylinder full of salty chips be too much to ask? Fucking hell.

 

* * *

 

 

Henry sat up straight in the back of the Impala. Dean was listening to Lynyrd Skynyrd on the radio at a medium volume, clapping his hands against the steering wheel in time, Cas was nodding his head slightly along as well, which occurred to Henry was very different. Sam and Mary were talking about some case that the boys had been on last year but Henry couldn’t seem to focus enough to hear the words right. Sleepy brain, he supposed.

 “Ah, morning, Sleeping Beauty,” Dean grinned from the front seat into the rear-view mirror. “You were out for a while.” Henry rubbed his eyes.

“I don’t even remember leaving the gas station,” Henry said. He scrunched up his eyebrows and looked down at the floor to see a wrinkled blue bag of Ruffles. Ah, so he _had_ bought them.

“You fell asleep as soon as you hit the car again,” Sam said. Henry yawned and stretched. Well, he did feel a bit better, at least. Less exhausted. Moderately.

“I remember looking for Pringles,” Henry said. He glanced out the window. “That’s it.”

 “Damn, you must have been more tired than you realized,” Dean said. “And you woke up just in time to go to sleep again.” Henry realized where Dean was heading without an explanation when the Impala’s blinker clicked on and they turned into the lot of an old Room and Rest motel.

The building was a dull, worn-out green which was peeling from the walls slightly. Gold numbers dimly appeared on the grey doors along each of the two levels. Dean pulled into a spot in front of the office and got out of the Impala with another smile.

“Be back shortly,” he said.

“When did he get in such a good mood?” Henry asked, rubbing his eyes again.

“About half an hour ago,” Cas said from the front seat. The smallest of smiles tilted the edges of his lips.

“I can’t believe you missed it,” Sam laughed, leaning around Mary as he wrapped up his story. “ _Don’t Stop Believing_ came on and Cas sang the whole thing word for word! It was hilarious.”

“I still don’t see why my singing was cause for so much laughter,” Cas said seriously, then the small smile returned. “But I am glad that it improved Dean’s mood. He was becoming very disagreeable.”

“He’s always like that,” Sam snorted. “You’re the one who fell in love with him.” Cas didn’t comment, but his smile increased ever so slightly as he turned to look out his window to see Dean waving from the front desk. Henry rolled his eyes and groaned.

“You two are intolerable,” he said, but he knew he had missed it. He felt his mind finally waking up along with him and Dean returned to the car and drove them to a parking space in front of rooms 13 & 14.

“Here we are,” Dean said. He put the car into park and removed the keys from the ignition. “Cas, you and me are in 13. Everyone else is in 14. Flip a coin on who gets the couch.” He got out of the car without another word and marched to his room, flinging the door open and waiting for Cas with that same self-satisfied smile. The door closed behind both Dean and Cas before the other three travelers had even removed themselves from the back seat. Mary whistled.

“That wasn’t even sort of subtle,” she muttered. Sam groaned loudly.

“Oh, come on!” He complained. “Our room is _right_ next door are they serious?” Henry laughed as he clicked the handle on his door and put his feet on the asphalt.

“I don’t care if they are serious,” he said, “as long as they aren’t loud. I’m still tired as hell. Let’s get some sleep.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from The Devil Within by Digital Daggers  
> To listen to a song I wrote while working on this piece which is supposed to be a lullaby from Mary to Dean, go here: http://goo.gl/CGTPPF


	9. The Things We Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally getting back home was one thing, but it does mean Henry has to deal with Gabriel again - something the archangel has somehow managed to make worse. By the way, has anyone checked their phones recently?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the fact that this chapter is a bit all over the place, it is all headed somewhere, I promise. Just work with me. You will be rewarded with destiel at the end.

Henry had never been so happy to see the bunker door. The drive the rest of the way back had been long and taxing, and Dean had started to get annoyed again, which just got on everyone’s nerves. But they were back. Sam, Dean, and Mary went to the back of the Impala to get out the boxes full of various parts of Abaddon but Cas accompanied Henry directly to the door.

“So, Cas, how was everyone this week?” Henry asked. Cas smiled and gave him an odd look. Henry raised an eyebrow at him. “What?”

“You have never called me ‘Cas’ before,” Castiel said. Henry took a moment to consider his past interactions with the former angel and decided that it was probably true.  

“Huh, I never realized,” Henry said. “Do you mind?” Cas pulled the bunker door open and allowed Henry to enter first.

“Not at all,” Cas said. “And in reference to your question, they have been tense. Dean most of all, if I was to specify. He was very worried about you, Henry. We all were.” Henry hummed quietly but didn’t say anything.

“You’re back!” Kevin’s voice called as he shuffled into sight. His smile was wide, but he looked even more exhausted than he had before Henry had left. The bags under his eyes were more pronounced and he looked like he hadn’t shaved in a while. Cas sent out a glare in the prophets direction.

“You were supposed to get a bit of rest while we were gone,” he said stiffly. Kevin’s smile fell slightly and he turned more bashful.

“I was worried,” he muttered. Henry smiled.

“Well, we’re back,” he said. “Now for the love of God, please go take a shower.” He caught Cas out of the corner of his eye trying to hide a smile. Kevin rolled his eyes, but it seemed lighthearted, and walked out of the main hall and down in the direction of the bathroom. Sam, Dean, and Mary walked past them holding their boxes looking like they were heading to the dungeon.

“Give me a minute to put the bitch away and I’ll make some dinner,” Dean called as he passed. Henry waved a hand in the air after them.

“How has Sam been?” Henry asked Cas. The two of them walked together down to the kitchen.

“With Gabriel’s help, he appears to be entirely healed,” Cas said. He pulled two glasses from the cupboard and put a few cubes of ice in each before filling them up with water and handing one to Henry.

“Who’s up for burgers?” Dean called as he walked into the kitchen.

“That sounds fantastic,” Mary said, following him closely. “I’ll help.” She walked to the freezer and pulled out the Styrofoam plate that held a pile of ground beef.

“Dean makes some truly incredible burgers,” Henry said, sitting down at the island to watch Mary and Dean work. Dean sent him a slight proud smile and grabbed an onion to start slicing.

“I’m eager to try one,” Cas said. He took a seat next to Henry and, if for only a meal, everything felt back to normal again.

 

* * *

 

 

“You’re saying that it’s time to do this now?” Henry asked in exasperation. Gabriel was sitting smack dab in the middle of the table in the war room, legs crossed, smirking horribly. The archangel’s presence was making everyone edgy. And now, apparently, it was time for the siege on heaven? He had only been back for a day!

“Look, Sam here is finally back to fighting speed,” Gabriel said. “And souls aren’t making it up to that now room-for-one paradise in the sky, so, yeah, I think we need to speed this little plan along.” Dean had his arms crossed across his chest, puffing himself up, but he didn’t look upset.

“I agree,” he said. “We need to do this now.” Everyone else in the room besides Henry and Kevin nodded in agreement. Kevin, though, seemed more skittish than frustrated. He was freaked out of his mind, that much was obvious.

“Henry, if you’re worried, maybe you shouldn’t go,” Sam said. Henry resisted the urge to roll his eyes, knowing he would look far too much like Dean.

“Like I’m going to let you two go without me,” Henry said. He shook out his shoulders like it would release the tension in his back. “I fought way too hard to let you muscle me out of this now. I’m going.”

“Now that that’s settled,” Gabriel smiled and brought his fingers together in a loud snap, “let’s look over our plan.” In front of his crossed legs now sat a huge map, yellowing at the corners and thin as tissue paper. It had long markings across it that Henry couldn’t read made in thick ink. It looked like it could have been a map, but some of it also seemed to be letters, of whatever kind.

“What is this?” Sam came forward in what could only be described as reverence, reaching out to put a finger on the page. The delicate paper seemed to flinch away from his touch and Sam started backwards in shock.

“That,” Gabriel said, “is for angels only, Sasquatch.” Sam pulled off an impressive bitchface for the archangel but didn’t approach the paper again.

“Where did you find this?” Cas said. His voice was all low astonishment. He didn’t try to touch it as Sam had, but tried to draw it all in by observing every inch of the paper with focused eyes.

“I’ve had it for centuries,” Gabriel said. “I have sticky fingers.” He waved his hand as if to emphasize his point.

“Yeah, ok, so what the fuck is it?” Dean asked. He let his crossed arms fall open so he could gesture towards the paper.

“Language, Dean,” Mary admonished and Henry turned an incredulous eye at her. Sam stifled a giggle off to the side and Dean glared but didn’t say anything to Mary. Now _that_ was power. Not even Cas got Dean to stop swearing. In fact, the former angel actually had a tendency to use fairly foul language, especially first thing in the morning. Henry just as soon figured that if the angels in the team were allowed to curse, then so was everyone else. Gabriel smirked at Dean.

“This,” the Archangel indicated the paper, “is a map of Heaven.” Ah, so Henry was right. It was a map.

“It seems kind of all over the place,” Kevin muttered.

“It is,” Cas said. He still looked over the map with reverence, answering Kevin without looking at him. “Heaven isn’t like earth. It is made of thought and light, not walls. Navigating it is difficult enough as an angel, but navigating as a human is almost impossible.”

“Great, well, good thing we can read this then,” Dean said. He crossed his arms again.

“Now, now,” Gabriel said. “Don’t let your human stupidity get in your way now. It never has before! Plus, Cassy here knows how to read it.”

“That true, Cas?” Sam asked. The former angel nodded.

“Yes, of course I can read it,” he said. “Angels are taught to read the markings of the map as soon as we are first created. It is essential that we understand it. Heaven has been greatly saddened that the map was missing, but now, at least, I know where it has been. I have never laid eyes on it myself.” Castiel’s words faded into a whisper and he nearly reached out to the map but seemed to stop himself with a sharp thought. Here he was, finally seeing something he had heard about for his entire life, and he couldn’t touch it. Henry felt the unnatural urge to hug Cas.

Dean did the next best thing by coming forward and putting a hand on Cas’s shoulder, rubbing his arm slightly. Cas loosened up and shook himself, as though waking up from a daydream, and turned to face Dean. The former angel nodded at him and Dean sent him the smallest of smiles, squeezing the shoulder again. Gabriel groaned.

“Ugh, you two are actually _more_ intolerable now that you’re fucking than you were before,” Gabriel said. He shook his head. “So, the plan. We’re going to have to go in with two teams. One to distract, and get ready to deal with reopening Heaven’s gates, and the other to get to Metatron and kill his sorry ass.”

“I’m with Cas,” Dean said. Everyone in the room rolled their eyes. It was so synchronized it was almost like it had been planned.

“Yes, I think we all assumed,” Mary said, shaking her head. Henry tried to hide a smirk.

“That means Gabriel needs to be part of the distraction,” Sam said. “Plus he knows Heaven.”

“Excellent point, Sammy,” Gabriel smiled. Dean rolled his eyes.

“I think you should stay here,” Dean said. He said it quietly, head lowered, but there was no mistaking what he meant. He meant Mary should stay behind. Like that was going to happen. Henry snorted but Mary got to talking before he did.

“Yeah right,” Mary said. She crossed her arms. “Like I’m going to sit here with my thumb up my ass because _you’re_ overprotective.” Henry almost wanted to applaud but he settled for smiling at her and then turning his smile back to Dean.

“Language, Mom,” Dean muttered. Sam choked on a sharp laugh, hiding it behind his mouth in shock. Mary gave Dean a look that made the hunter settle his face in something that would have been suitable at a funeral and gave his full attention to the archangel on the table.

“Fine, then you both go with Gabriel,” Dean said, sending an additional nod Henry’s way. He crossed his arms to mirror his mother and looked like he was desperately trying to maintain control of the situation.

“Nope, team leader demands even teams. Plus I want Sam,” Gabriel said. He leaned back on the palms of his hands lazily. Dean sent a frustrated glare in his direction. “I’m team leader, by the way.” The archangel added, obviously to piss Dean off more than anything else.

“You know what Gabriel? Fuck you,” Dean grumped off into the corner to pout. Gabriel smirked at him.

“I would, but I get the feeling Cas wouldn’t be pleased,” the archangel said. Cas looked up at the ceiling with a long-suffering expression while Sam rubbed his temples.

“Does that mean I’m staying here?” Kevin’s small voice asked. Henry looked over at him. He had actually forgotten the prophet was there at all, which sent a guilty feeling across his chest.

“Yeah, let’s keep the youngest member of our team _alive_ please,” Dean grumbled. Kevin didn’t look put off. In fact, he looked downright pleased to be out of the “Attack Heaven” party. The group was quiet for a moment when Gabriel started shifting unsettlingly. He looked uncomfortable, which was a feeling Henry didn’t think he’d seen the archangel express before.

“What’s with you, shifty?” Henry asked. Gabriel glared at him and sat up straight again.

“I need Mary to go with Dean and Cas,” Gabriel said. He sounded like he was trying to close of the discussion without questions, but if he knew the Winchesters at all then he must know that going in with no explanation wasn’t going to fly.

“Why?” Sam asked. He held one arm out into the air in a gesture of frustrated confusion. Gabriel sighed and looked even more out of place.

“We need a way to communicate between teams,” he said. It was the quietest Henry had ever heard him speak. And to top it off, he was getting this horrible sense of foreboding running along his nerves.

“What are you talking about?” Mary asked. She uncrossed her hands and her arms hung awkwardly at her sides. Gabriel looked up at her with an uneasy expression, looking like he was avoiding meeting eyes with anyone else in the room.

“When I brought you back, it created a sort of bond,” Gabriel said. He stretched his hands and then intertwined them carefully without looking down.

“A bond?” Dean asked. Cas was pulling an unreadable expression as he looked at Gabriel.

“It means I can read her thoughts whenever I want,” Gabriel said. He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender as everyone in the room started yelling at him at once. “It’s not that different! I’m a fucking archangel, did you all really think that I couldn’t poke around in there if I wanted to?” This comment did very little to help the situation.

“You’ve been inside my head?” Mary demanded.

“You fucking liar,” Dean shook his head and practically spat at Gabriel.

“You mean you can just wander through any of our thoughts at will?” Sam inquired. He sounded mildly less angry than the rest.

“Why didn’t you tell us when you came?” Cas asked, sounding the most reasonable of them all.

“I can’t read your thoughts when you’re in the bunker, just Mary’s,” Gabriel said as if that fixed everything. Henry glared a hole in Gabriel’s head, wishing the archangel could read his thoughts at that moment so that he could have fully grasped the depths of Henry’s anger.

“Well, that’s just great,” Dean said. “Did you fuck with her brain?” He demanded next. Apparently the ‘language’ chide that they were tossing back and forth had been thrown out of the window.

“Do you really think I’d be that stupid?” Gabriel scoffed.

“I don’t know, if history serves, you have had the tendency to be fairly dumb when the mood strikes,” Sam said. Henry thought he could hear the barest strains of _Heat of the Moment_ flowing through his mind as Sam glared at Gabriel. Gabriel did a fair job glaring right back, though, and there was another awkward silence.

“If you can read anyone’s mind,” Mary ground out finally, trying and failing to loosen her shoulders. “Then why does it matter that I go with someone else?” Gabriel sighed and shook his head, looking for all the world like he was regretting his very existence. His posture, though, said otherwise. He was sitting back up and didn’t look in any way repentant or upset. His shoulders were held high where his face was downturned and mournful.

“Mainly, because the bond thing that I mentioned earlier works both ways,” Gabriel said. “It means not only can I hear your thoughts, we can sort of… connect mentally.”

“Wait, what?” Henry asked. The faces around him echoed the confusion, all except Cas’s. The former angel let out a sigh like the puzzle had finally been put together.

“It means they can speak to each other within their minds,” Cas said.

“Ah, perfect,” Sam said. He dropped into a chair by the door and put his head in his hands. Yeah, Henry thought he could understand the feeling. At least, Henry thought, this situation can’t really get any worse.

Famous fucking last words.

There was a distant pounding on the bunker door, followed by the creaking sound of it opening. Dean took a moment to stop himself from glaring at Gabriel hard enough to light the archangel on fire to grab the gun from his belt. Sam followed suit, and even Henry grabbed his gun from the table next to him, all of them moving to the sides of the room to stand in some form of ‘battle positions’.

“Hey, is everyone-what the fuck?!” Charlie walked into the room to see three guns pointed at her face and jumped about sixteen feet backwards. “What the fuck, you guys?” She grabbed her chest and everyone lowered their guns. Dean sighed.

“’What the fuck’ to us?” he demanded. He was obviously still high strung from the previous conversation. “You just walked into our _secret_ bunker with absolutely zero warning!”

“I knocked!” Charlie shouted. Her face was still a certain level of terrified. Henry rolled his eyes.

“Both of you calm the hell down,” Henry said. He put his gun back down on the table. “What are you doing here, Charlie?” She gave everyone in the room an exasperated look.

“What am I doing here?” she asked. She dropped her bag heavily on the floor so she could hold her hands up properly to express her frustration. “I have called you guys like 80 times! I thought you were dead!”

“What?” Dean asked. He looked around the room incredulously and pulled out his phone to check his calls, presumably. “We haven’t heard from you once.”

“What?” Charlie echoed, coming further into the room. She was wearing a black T-shirt with a blue police box on it underneath a heavy, green bomber jacket, plus some black converse shoes. So, basic Charlie. “I’ve been calling you for a week.”

“Oh,” Gabriel’s voice interrupted. Henry was going to kill him. He was going to absolutely going to kill him. “I _may have_ blocked your calls from any outside sources.” And then Henry got to see what it looked like when a human being punched an archangel.

 

* * *

 

Gabriel had, for obvious reasons, declined to heal Dean’s hand, not that Dean had asked. In fact, after he got the punch in, he practically marched out of the room, Cas hot on his heels. Dean had cried out fairly loudly after he got the punch in, Gabriel barely moving at all, except to probably prevent Dean from shattering his hand entirely. And now the archangel was just brushing his face lightly, looking vaguely disinterested. Sam stiffly marched to the table and put a finger right in Gabriel’s face.

“From now on, we receive all calls,” he said. He pulled his phone out of his pocket out of his pocket and held it in front of the archangel. “And you put any voicemails we missed right back on our phones.”

“Yes, mother,” Gabriel said, but his heart wasn’t in it. He snapped a finger. Sam put his phone back in his pocket.

“Good,” he dropped his hands to his side. “Now, get out of here for a day, if you know what’s good for you.” Gabriel inclined his head, looking like the repentant child that everyone in the room knew he wasn’t and then disappeared with the loud sound of flapping wings. Henry sighed and turned to Mary.

“I don’t know,” Mary said, although no one had asked her a question. She crossed her arms again, disheartened. “I need some time to think.” She walked out of the room without another word to anyone. Henry turned to Sam next.

“Don’t ask me,” Sam said. He smiled at Henry in that sad way he had that was both comforting and horribly upsetting. Henry sighed deeply. Kevin and Charlie had already run off to God knows where, probably to avoid the majority of the fallout. Henry thought he was going to have to go and find Dean himself when both the hunter and Cas walked back into the room from a different doorway.

Dean was mad. Dean was _pissed_. One of the angriest moods Henry had ever seen. This was ‘keep the breakables away from Dean’ level angry. Henry took an involuntary step backwards. Instead of speaking, Dean held out his phone and a woman started speaking.

“Hey, Dean, it’s Jody Mills,” the voice said and Sam sighed, his head dropping, “I’m calling because I’ve noticed some stuff that seems up your guys’ alley. Lots of ghost activity, I think. Anyway, give me a call when you get this.” The phone beeped and Dean pressed a button before holding the phone up again.

“Dean?” another female voice, much younger this time. “Hey, it’s not like I’m running to you for help or anything, I can totally handle this. Oh, this is Krissy. It’s just, hauntings have gone way, way up and we’re starting to feel swamped. But if you’re busy, just don’t worry about it. We can handle this. Yeah. Call me.” The message beeped. Cas looked at the wall like it was particularly interesting.

“Hey, ya idjits,” a man’s voice, with a southern drawl. “I’ve been callin’ but you haven’t picked up. How’s Kevin? Well, I’ve been gettin’ a lot of calls from people sayin’ there’s been a big jump in hauntings pretty much everywhere, and I was just wonderin’ if you guys knew why? Anyway, let’s get a beer. Come on, amigos, don’t be strangers.” The phone beeped. The caller hadn’t left a name, which meant he assumed that Dean and Sam would know who he was by voice only.

“What do we-“ Sam’s question was cut off with a sharp finger from Dean and another button press.

“Um, I’m looking for Dean Winchester?” It was a young boy’s voice and Dean’s eyes hardened. “I just- this is, uh, Ben Braeden. I don’t know, I found this number in my drawer a while ago. I don’t know why I kept it it’s just – It said to call here if something weird was happening, if I was worried about me or my mom. This is probably stupid, I don’t know. Something is going on at my friend, Robbie’s, house. And at mine too. I’m really freaked out. Anyway, this is probably a wrong number. If – If you really can help, please call me. Please.” The boy listed a number and then hung up. Cas was pulling a very concerned face at Dean’s back.

“Dean, I’m sorry,” Sam said, open and honest.

“This isn’t your fault, Sammy,” Dean said. “You didn’t fuck this up. He did.”

“I have a couple of messages too,” Sam whispered.

“And that wasn’t the last of mine,” Dean ground out. “I have about 13 from Charlie.” He was clenching both his fists, which was impressive because Henry was fairly positive one of them had broken on Gabriel’s face. He looked around for any pottery or something else that Dean might make a grab for to throw. Instead he sighed deeply and gestured to Sam. “Who are yours from?” Sam’s phone was already in his hand, presumably looking at the little voicemail icon with a certain number hovering above it. He clicked a button and held the phone out.

“Both of mine are from the same number,” he said. A voice that Henry actually recognized came through the small speaker in Sam’s phone.

“Sam, it’s Sarah,” Henry sighed. “I’m really worried about my house. It’s weird, and this would sound so stupid to anyone who hasn’t been nearly choked to death by a goddamn _spell_ , but I really think the house is haunted. I’m worried about my daughter. I haven’t even told Ian. Sorry, that’s my husband. He doesn’t know about this stuff. I don’t know what I’d say. I could really use a hand. Call me, ok?” The message beeped. All the blood had drained from Sam’s face and he looked like he might not hit the button to hear the second message. Dean cleared his throat to get Sam’s attention back and the younger Winchester stiffly hit the button on his phone to hear the next message.

The first thing they heard was a choking breath.

“Sam,” Sarah sucked a deep breath inwards. “Sam, Ian is – he’s dead.”

“Shit,” Dean muttered. He put his hands on his hips. Sam sunk into a chair.

“I think it was a ghost or a poltergeist or something,” Sarah’s message continued, unaware of the interruption. “I got my daughter, Bess, out. We’re staying in an apartment. I don’t know what to do. Things have gotten really bad, Sam. Things are weird. I need you – I need your help, I mean. Please, please call me.” The message beeped loudly. Sam squeezed the phone in his palm and, without warning, threw the phone across the room in a wide arch. Cas flinched.

“I’m going to skin your brother alive, Cas,” Dean said. Cas nodded like that was the only solution and he would willingly help Dean if he asked.

“What are we going to do?” Henry asked. Instead of answering, Sam took a deep breath and walked across the room to his phone and picked it up, entering numbers and holding it up to his ear. His face was sad and broken and everyone in the room just watched him while it rang.

“Sarah?” Sam asked, his voice soft. Henry heard frantic yelling from the other end of the line and Sam winced. He shook his head. “No, no, I’m sorry. We didn’t – our phones were – we haven’t been able to call anyone back.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. Yeah, this was going to be fun to explain to people. Oh yeah, sorry, our bad – and archangel cut off our method of communication to make sure we had our head in the game. Dean seemed to agree with Sam’s mission plan as he entered in his own number and walked out of the room. Henry thought he heard the name ‘Ben’.

“Who is Ben?” Henry asked Castiel, moving over to the corner where he stood. Cas seemed to be caught in an extended wince, maintaining the expression for longer than one normally would.

“As far as I know,” Cas said, “Dean considers him his son, although Ben won’t remember him.”

‘’Why not?” Henry asked. Dean had a son? Which meant he had a great grandson. Jesus Christ, he was too young for this.

Literally.

“I was asked to wipe their memories,” Cas said, looking down. “It was for their protection.” Yeah, that sounded like Dean. He _would_ consider someone never remembering him an improvement on their lives. Henry thought maybe he would smack him later, then figured Dean had probably done enough of that on his own.

“You can come stay at our safe house,” Sam said, his voice interrupting Henry’s consciousness. Henry sighed. So it was time to get another room ready, then. Sam gave Sarah directions and told her he would come to town to pick her and Bess up and then hung up the phone. “So, Ian is dead. Has been for about a week. A ghost – Sarah thinks it looked like one of Ian’s work friends who died about a month back – gutted him while she watched. She had salt handy and got herself and Bess out.” Dean walked in in time to hear the end.

“Smart girl,” he said. “Always said she was.”

“Ben?” Sam asked.

“He doesn’t remember me, just found my number,” Dean said. “If he’s telling me everything right then it’s definitely a haunting. I told him to try to get his mom out, but the kid is only 15, he’s not going to have a lot of pull.”

“And what are we planning on doing about any of this?” Henry asked.

“We have to help them,” Dean said as if that was the only plausible answer.

“It will only get worse if we continue to leave heaven closed,” Cas said. All three Winchesters turned to look at him and he continued. “These spirits, they aren’t able to make it to heaven, but that doesn’t mean they are tortured souls. At least, not at first. But I think you both know that surviving as a ghost doesn’t lend to prolonged sanity.” He tried to sooth his words with a sympathetic glance the brothers’ way.

“Heaven might be closed, but hell is still open for business, right?” Henry asked. Cas inclined his head in a partial sort of agreement.

“Yes, which means souls destined for hell are still going where they should, but I’m concerned about the demon problem,” Cas said. Of course. It wouldn’t just be one thing now, would it? Cas took in the faces in front of him and decided to explain. “Well, with the King of Hell dead, there is most likely a severe lack of leadership happening down there at the moment. Crowley kept the demons on some semblance of a leash, but who knows how things are being run now.” Dean exhaled.

“Right, so, demons are also to be looked out for,” he said. “Well, like it or not, I need to get Ben. And Lisa.” At a questioning glare from Cas he added, “They’re going to die. He’s my son.”

“Dean, he’s a boy you played house with for a year,” Cas said icily.

“No, he’s not and you know it,” Dean glared. Cas glared. It all started to feel wildly inappropriate for anyone else to still be in the room. “He’s mine. Whatever shit Lisa said otherwise, and you know it as well as I do.” Sam was looking at Dean wide-eyed. This was obviously a development that they had never really discussed. Cas, at least, seemed to realize that he was wrong as he looked down regretfully.

“Sarah is coming here,” Sam mentioned quietly. Dean looked at him and agreed with a small nod.

“Go into the back hallway and get a couple of the rooms ready, then,” Dean said. Henry looked at him questioningly.

“A couple?” he asked. Dean turned to meet his eyes.

“Sarah’s coming here, and so are Lisa and Ben,” he said. Cas scowled and looked at the floor. Well, at least the bunker was built for an army. Henry had lived in it for going on 8 months now and even he didn’t think he’d seen the whole thing. There was an entire lower floor of rooms that was never used, not to mention the back hallway behind the main one that was a whole row of bedroom after bedroom. They could probably get the population of Lebanon in here with an entire floor of rooms to spare.

“How are you planning on getting them here if they don’t remember you?” Henry asked.

“Yeah,” Sam added, “last time I checked, they only remember you as the guy who hit them with a car.” Dean scowled at him.

“I’ll figure it out,” Dean said. “But I made a promise to keep them safe, even if they don’t remember it. He’s mine.”

“Dean—“ Sam started, not complaining, probably changing the subject, but Dean looked down and he seemed, suddenly, to be in a different world.

“She told me once,” he nearly whispered. There was a beat of silence.

“What?” Sam asked cautiously. Henry wasn’t sure if Dean’s response was to Sam’s question or if he just would have continued anyway.

“Got her drunk once,” Dean continued. “She told me he was mine.” Again, a beat of silence. Henry tried to remain calm for Dean’s sake, giving him time. Another beat and Dean was back, like nothing had happened. Like he hadn’t just admitted something so gargantuan that it left Sam in utter shock.

“I’m coming with you, then,” Cas said. Dean nodded grudgingly. It wasn’t like the request came as a shock. Everyone knew Dean him and Cas came as a package deal, and that wasn’t going to change now.

“How long will it take Sarah to get here?” Henry asked. Sam looked up for a minute, coming back to himself, and considered.

“If they stay speed limit?” he said, “about 7 hours. They were in Illinois.”

“How old is her daughter?” Henry asked.

“Maybe one and a half?” Sam responded. Henry nodded. He considered. So, Sarah and Bess would stay in a room together. And they would need supplies. Diapers, one could only assume. Damn. And Lisa and Ben would need separate rooms. Plus they had to get Charlie’s regular room cleaned out again. Why they had decided to keep boxes of files in there while they were cleaning out one of the Men of Letter’s storage rooms he would never know.

“Dean, you start driving,” Henry said. “You have a lot of distance to cover.” Dean nodded and gestured to Cas, both of them rapidly leaving the room to grab bags.

“I’ll start moving some boxes around,” Sam said. He twiddled around nervously in the corner like he wasn’t quite sure where to stand. It was always something that had fascinated Henry about Sam: he was huge but he was so entirely unsure of himself and tended to shrink inwards, and at some of the oddest times. He almost never seemed to fully stretch himself out and take up as much room as he had a right to.

“That’s fine,” Henry said. “I’ll help you out.” After all, company was coming over. The place just had to look perfect. Not to mention the fact that he had a great-grandson to meet.

 

* * *

 

“I’m sorry for what I said,” Cas said. Dean looked over at him sharply. They had already been driving for half an hour in relative silence. Cas clarified, “about Ben. You were right, he is your son and I did know about it. I don’t know what came over me.” He looked down to his lap in minor confusion. Dean sighed.

“It’s called jealousy, Cas,” he said. The former angel looked at him in a semi-annoyed pout. Dean actually let out a light laugh. “Look at you! Not that fun dealing with emotions, is it?” The look Cas gave him then made him want to just rewind the previous couple of seconds. Oh, fuck, they were going to talk about it. Dean had been avoiding it. Like pretty much every conversation that probably needed to happen. Avoidance had always been his favorite method.

“I am… not used to emotions quite yet,” Cas said. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Yeah, he had been doing that more often too. He’d been back for a while now, but he had started forming these human ticks that felt so wrong on him. Like the shifting. And the more comfortable way he used his shoulders to shrug. Or the fact that he now, on occasion, rolled his eyes like he was five fucking years old.

“I’ve had them my whole life and I’m not used to them, Cas,” Dean said. He stared straight ahead. “Emotions are fucking terrible, new or not. They are stupid and useless and get in the way most of the time.”

“They are too much for me,” Cas said. He looked up and Dean could feel the blue eyes watching his face carefully. “I feel like I will explode. I am concerned for my fallen brothers and sisters, I am furious at Metatron for causing the pain he has caused, I am annoyed with the way you kick me in your sleep, and now, apparently, I am jealous of a woman you have had no contact with for four years.” Dean had to smirk a bit at the kicking complaint.

“Jealousy is the worst of them,” Dean said. It was bullshit, but he was good at bullshit. “Because most of the time, it makes no damn sense. And you hate yourself even more because you want to scream at yourself but you can’t make the fucking feeling go away.”

“It is… very powerful,” Cas admitted. He looked away from Dean’s face to look forward. “And you are right, I am… frustrated with it. The emotion. Because it does not make any sense to me.” Dean caught it this time. The difficulty Cas had naming the feelings he experienced. He was still confusing them and trying to find names for them.

“Ok, jealousy we can sort of deal with, just like the rest,” Dean said. He flipped on his blinker and Cas turned back to look at him curiously.

“How?” he asked earnestly.

“By reminding you that, with all the shit you get along with emotions, there are also some good ones to be had,” Dean smirked again. He pulled off to the side of the highway. It was abandoned, and pitch black outside. He put his baby into park and turned the key in the ignition, killing the engine. He finally turned to meet Cas’s eyes and smiled a bit more before leaning across the front seat and kissing Cas deeply.

Cas returned it immediately, making a happy grunt in the back of his throat. He grabbed around the back of Dean’s neck and pulled the hunter closer hungrily, shoving his tongue into Dean’s mouth with ferocity. His hand moved from Dean’s neck to his hair, twirling his fingers deeper into the sandy glow and grabbing a more firm hold. It brought a moan from Dean and he grinned despite himself. He pulled his body closer to Cas, which was a fairly difficult feat in the cramped front seat, but he was happy to oblige. Ever since Cas had become human, he had become far more aggressive as far as this part of their relationship went. Probably because he could feel it on a more human level now.

Not that Dean had doubted that Cas loved him before he was human. He knew. But feeling love as an angel, Dean had to recognize, besides the added feelings of lust and _need_ , would have been a pretty significant adjustment.

“See,” Dean said against Cas’s lips when he managed to pull away for half a second. “There are good things.” Cas leaned back in, capturing Dean’s lips again with a frustrated grunt. Dean chuckled and wrapped his arms around Cas’s waist, gripping him tightly. He ran a hand down under the back of Cas’s shirt, feeling along the hot skin of his back as he hiked the shirt up. He let out a really frustrated sigh when he had to push Cas away with a sharp movement of his hand.

Cas’s hair was all over the place (and Dean didn’t want to think about what his own looked like) and he was angry. Let down, if Dean had to name an emotion for him. Which he might have to start doing in the future. Naming emotions, not letting him down. God, letting Cas down on sex was the worst because he got the angry puppy dog eyes, which really only worked for Cas. But as far as emotion went, it wasn’t fair to leave Cas to figure it all out on his own. He really had been an ass since Cas had been back, now that he considered it.

“Sorry,” Dean said. He reached over and started to adjust Cas’s shirt but was rebuffed with an annoyed hand that began fixing the shirt before he could really do anything. Dean cleared his throat. “I left you to deal with this shit on your own. It was a dick move. You don’t know emotions, and I’m the king of shoving them away where fuck don’t shine. I’ll do better.” Cas glared at him for a moment.

“Sometimes you frustrate me,” Cas said. He fixed Dean with a look that the hunter didn’t quite have a name for. Something along the lines of _want_ and _I could kick your ass._

“Sorry, but we have things to do,” Dean said. He smirked. “But good to know where your focus is.”

“I told you I was not used to human emotions yet,” Cas said. “You got me excited and then denied me further satisfaction. It was a dick move.” Cas’s face remained impassive as he mimicked Dean’s self-given label. Dean gave him a lopsided smile.

“I was trying to make a point,” he said. “Sorry again.” Cas rolled his eyes. There it was again. Actually, the eye roll suited him, now that Dean thought about it. Like he had always been rolling his eyes, just hadn’t found a physical way to show it before. Dean turned the Impala back on and pulled back onto the highway, speeding up quickly.

“You are aggravating to a very high degree,” Cas said.

“I love you too,” Dean grinned. Maybe this drive wouldn’t be too long after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so you know, I'll probably finish writing the end of this fic this weekend, which is exciting. Unfortunately, you guys are reading a lot behind in what I've written, so you'll still have a good amount of reading on your hands even though I'll be all done. Hope that was cryptic enough for you.  
> (Side note: No one panic about Lisa, ok? I've got it under control.)  
> To listen to a song I wrote while working on this piece which is supposed to be a lullaby from Mary to Dean, go here: http://goo.gl/CGTPPF


	10. You Leave the World Behind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a good thing the bunker is so damn big because how the hell else would they keep taking in strays? Oh, and Henry might be up to something stupid again. But can you really expect anything else?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit all over the place, but I included a bit more Cas, and a big more Charlie, so please enjoy.

Actually pulling up in front of the house felt strange. It was a new house, not the one Dean and Lisa and Ben had lived in together for so long, but it was still _their_ house and Dean was here. It was unsettling. Jesus, he was starting to sound like Cas. And _that_ is something Sam would take ample advantage of to give Dean shit. Because that’s what shitty little brothers did.

Dean stared at the house for a moment, car off, Cas staring at him, before Cas gave a little cough and gestured at the house with a nod of the head. Dean set his face into a more determined line and got out of the car, Cas following suit. They had agreed that Cas being there too might help. Not that this plan was actually going to work but whatever. Dean made an effort to fix his hair before knocking on the door. It was early morning, but not early enough that anyone inside would make a fuss about being woken up. Lisa answered. Dean sucked in a breath.

She looked good, he had to admit, if only to himself. Her hair was a couple of inches shorter and had like caramel highlights. She was wearing close-fitting, light green T-shirt and jeans and she smiled in that way that was just so damn infectious.

“Can I help you?” she asked. Dean took a moment to answer, never having really figured out a plan for this situation. _Yes, hello Miss. I’m a man you’ve never met before and I’d like to take you and your son away in my awesome black car._ Perfect.

“Um, yeah,” he glanced at Cas but got nothing but a mildly annoyed look in return. “I’m sorry, this is going to sound weird, but Ben called me?”

“Ben?” Lisa looked at him curiously. “Do I know you?”

“No, I doubt it,” Dean said. He glanced down for a second and then back up. “It’s just, Ben called me. He was worried about you and, uh…” Yeah, he should have planned this more.

“Why did Ben call you?” Lisa asked. It didn’t sound rude as much as accusing.

“Miss Braeden, you are in a certain amount of danger,” Cas stepped in, like a fucking angel from… Well, maybe another term would be more applicable. “Ben was right to call.” Lisa’s brain clicked for a moment visibly and her face changed from curiosity to something more like frustration.

“Look, I don’t have any idea who the hell you people are,” she said, “or how you know my son, but I think it would be best if you got off my property before I call the cops.” She started to close the door and Dean shoved his foot in between the frame and the door before he could close entirely.

“I’m sorry, but you need to trust me on this,” Dean begged. “You and your son are in danger and you need to come with us.” Lisa’s look took on a much more dangerous level.

“Get. The fuck. Off my property,” she hissed. Dean removed his boot before she could make any attempt to crush it and the door slammed in their faces.

“That went well,” Cas said. Fucking Christ, when had he started picking up sarcasm? It was almost more trouble than it was worth. The two went back down to the car together, getting in at the same time. Dean knew Lisa would be watching from the front window, no guarantees on whether or not she had called the police. Dean backed out and drove his car a couple of houses away where she couldn’t see it, parking.

“What now?” Dean asked. Cas was prevented from answering by Dean’s phone choosing that moment to ring loudly. Dean grabbed it from his pocket.

“Hello,” he answered. His face relaxed instantly. “Ben. Yes, this is Dean Winchester. Yeah, I came. What are the chances of you convincing your mom to come with me? Right, that’s what I thought. Give me some time, I’ll figure something out.” He hung up the phone and stared straight ahead for a full minute. Cas cleared his throat.

“Dean, what are we going to do?” he asked. Dean gulped loudly and swore, banging his head into the steering wheel once before leaning back into his seat and looking at a very concerned Cas.

“We’re going to call your fucking brother,” Dean said. “And I’m going to do my best not to kill him.”

 

* * *

 

Henry walked up behind Mary slowly and carefully, trying to gauge how she might react when he spoke. She was finishing off a beer, sitting at the kitchen counter, hunched over. Her golden curls fell in her face. Charlie and Kevin were nowhere to be seen. Dean and Cas had only been gone for a couple of hours at this point. They weren’t expected back for another day.

“Mary,” Henry said quietly. She didn't react except to throw a hand in the air to show that she’d heard. Henry walked the rest of the way up to her and sat down on the next stool.

“Well, hey there, Henry,” Mary said without humor. She took another long gulp of her beer. If Dean’s habits were any reflection of his mother’s, Henry had a feeling he should probably hide their whisky somewhere. “What can I do for you?” Henry took a deep breath and let it out heavily, shaking his head.

“I’m going to need you to not get mad at me when I ask this,” Henry said. Mary gave him an interested look, at least. “Just wait for me to explain before you get pissed.” Mary took a moment to consider.

“Alright, fine,” she said. She sat up straight and faced Henry head on. “What is it?”

“I need you to call Gabriel for me,” Henry said. He winced at Mary’s face. “I’ll explain, I swear, I just need to make a request.”

 

* * *

 

Sam had left maybe five minutes ago, so he would be back pretty soon. After all, he was just driving into town to get Sarah and Bess, it wasn’t that far away. Still, Henry was unfocused. Sam, Dean, and Cas were all gone and his conversation with Gabriel, while it had ended the way he wanted, was going to get him in some deep trouble. So Charlie had to shake him out of his fog a couple of times.

“Hey, Henry,” she waved her hand in front of his face. “Yoo-hoo, paging Dr. Winchester? You’re needed on the card table.” Henry shook himself and looked down at the half-deck of cards in his hands. That’s right, he was playing a game with Charlie. He had totally forgotten. Which was a little sad, considering the fact that he was the one who had asked that Charlie at least choose a _simple_ game for them.

“Sorry,” Henry apologized. He flipped his card over and laid it face-up on the table next to Charlie’s.

“Nine is higher than six, that’s mine,” Charlie said. She raked her hand across the table. Yes, so maybe playing War was a _little_ ridiculous, but whatever. He was distracted, right?

“How long are you staying, Charlie?” Henry asked. They flipped over another set of cards and Charlie grabbed them both again.

“Well, at least long enough to keep you company,” Charlie grinned. They flipped cards and this time Henry got to pull them in. “I have read that leaving the elderly on their own for too long can lead to depression.” She added in, smiling despite herself at the floor. Henry rolled his eyes. They played their cards, each laying down a seven, and began the multi-card process to find out who got to keep all the cards on the table.

“Thanks for coming when we didn’t answer,” Henry said.

“Well, you promised to keep my updated on the ways of the Winchesters and I was really missing out on the gossip,” Charlie said. “You should keep a blog or something.” Henry hummed in place of a response. Kevin walked in the door on their left, coming in from the row of bedrooms.

“When do you think Dean and Cas will be back?” he asked. Henry lifted up his arm, shifting his sleeve with a shrug back so he could see his watch.

“Not until tomorrow,” Henry said. In fact, they weren’t even at the house yet. Damn, Michigan was a long drive. The creak of the door made everyone’s heads shoot up. Henry waved the rabid dogs back, telling Charlie and Kevin to just stay put. At least Sarah knew him. Still, it was going to be weird for her, no doubt about it.

“Anyway, this is it,” Sam’s voice sounded timid and unsure. The door creaked back closed again and Henry heard footsteps making their way down the stairs even has he made his way up through the alcove of the war room and into the entrance area.

Sarah looked thinner. The circles under her eyes were dark. She wore a purple sweater with heavy sleeves and some dark jeans with converse sneakers. Her dark hair was pulled back into a messy pony tail. In her arms was a little girl of about what age Sam had suggested. Her blue eyes were round with curiosity, and she had dark hair like her mothers, though much thinner. Still angel hair, like Catherine used to call it. Oh, God, he’d actually thought of her name this time. It must have been the fact that she had a child. No, Henry was not thinking about Catherine. It would cause way too much turmoil. He pushed the thought down.

“Hello, Sarah,” Henry smiled thinly. “Hey, little one.” He turned a bigger smile to the little girl who hid her face in her mother’s shirt with a frightened little noise.

“Henry,” Sarah smiled at him. She sniffed. Her face was slightly red. She had only lost her husband a week ago, really. She was probably trying to keep it together for Bess, if Henry had to guess. Sarah finished walking down the stairs and Sam followed her, carrying a couple of bags. Sarah reached Henry and nudged her nose at her daughter. “Hey, sweet-cheeks, this is Henry. Can you say ‘hi’?” Bess timidly turned to face Henry and lifted a hand in a childish approximation of a wave.

“It’s nice to meet you, Bess,” Henry said. Bess smiled quickly and hid her face again, this time in more of a shy tease, like toddlers so often did. “Let me help you with those.” Henry walked around to Sam and grabbed one of the bags, pulling up the handle and dragging it along the floor.

“It’s this way, Sarah,” Sam said, following after Henry. Henry walked out the entry-room door and down the main hallway of bedrooms, passing the many that were now in use until he reached the end and turned right, walking down two small stairs and turning again to the back hallway. The lights were turned on but it still felt slightly empty and alone.

“You won’t be the only two back here,” Henry felt the need to add. Sarah nodded but didn’t say anything. Bess had turned away from her mother and was looking around in interest at her surroundings. Every now and then she would point to something and then lower her hand again, never asking a question, just noticing the details. Henry walked to the first door and opened it up with a quick twist of the knob.

The bedroom was similar to pretty much all of the others in the bunker. Small, a general shade of green with brown blankets across the bed. A little desk sat against one wall and there was an open closet on the opposite side. A couple of shelves hung off to the side of the bed, but other than that it was undecorated. It was very military, the way the bunker was set up. Although, it was called ‘the bunker’ so what else was there to expect?

Bess started squirming in her mother’s arms and was obligingly placed down on the floor. She ran to the bed and put a careful hand on the covers and then toddled over to the closet to look around inside.

“Thank you, Sam,” Sarah muttered. She turned and grabbed the Winchester, pulling him into a huge hug. Sam took a moment before he returned it, then squeezed tightly back.

“I’m sorry I didn’t answer sooner,” he muttered back. They released and Henry shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Um, we’re all back in the main area, if you want to join us after you are settled,” he said, then turned and left. He had a game of War to finish off. And, with Dean and Cas gone, he wasn’t going to be getting any sleep anyway.

 

* * *

 

“I can’t believe I’m praying to this d-bag,” Dean muttered, glaring up at the sky for a minute.

“If you’d prefer, I could do it,” Cas said. “I’m not very familiar to the praying end of this situation, but I think I can handle the complicated steps.” He said the second part with his rare bit of humor and Dean looked over at him to see a self-satisfied smile on the guy’s face. Dean snorted.

“We really have been terrible influences on you,” he said. Cas only continued to smile. Dean sighed. “No, I should do it. They’re my responsibility.” He shook out his shoulders one last time. “Here goes. Gabriel, who I am still royally pissed at, would you get your lying ass down here for a sec?” Cas was glaring at him, he could tell. But hey, come on, the guy had lied to every single one of them – multiple times – and Dean just didn’t have it in him to be humble or any of that other shit. He was pissed and he was going to show it. He was good at holding a grudge or two.

“Ah, it’s so nice to be needed,” Gabriel’s voice shocked them, coming from the backseat. Dean jumped and accidentally hit his horn, the thing blaring loudly into the street. He held back the string of expletives he really, _really_ wanted to shout at the archangel and tried to take some calming breaths.

“Gabriel,” Cas greeted formally, then turned to face the windshield like the archangel didn’t exist. Cas could drama queen just as much as the rest of them, Dean just forgot that sometimes.

“What do you two asshats need from me this time?” Gabriel asked. Dean could tell his heart wasn’t in it, though. His regular humor was severely sapped, and he lacked his usual confident charm. He wasn’t even grinning that stupid grin at anyone in the car. Still, he didn’t seem apologetic as much as indifferent. Call it archangel ego, Dean supposed.

“Ben and Lisa Braeden,” Dean said. “They used to know me, now they don’t. They’re in danger and we need to get them to the bunker without any more fuss. You screwed us all over, so you’re going to help. That pretty much covers it all.” Cas didn’t even glare at him this time, just impassively stared forward. Gabriel groaned.

“Always with the ‘protecting family for everything’ line,” he said. “Fine, I’ll knock them out, and get them to the car. You do the driving.” He disappeared before Dean had time to ask any questions and then reappeared almost instantly, with two knocked-out bodies on either side of him.

“What the hell?” Dean twisted in his seat horribly to get a better look at Lisa and Ben. They were both dead to the world, heads lolling to the side.

“Don’t say I never did anything for you,” Gabriel said and then he was gone again.

“Mother _fucker_ ,” Dean shouted. “Cas, I just really hate your brother, ok?”

“He is rather annoying,” Cas agreed mildly. He turned to look at the new passengers in the back, who even had their seatbelts buckled. “At least he made it relatively easy.”

“Yeah, try giving me that line again when they wake up,” Dean grumbled. He turned on the car and they set out again. Dean was feeling like he was going to fall asleep at the wheel. They had, after all, been driving for almost 13 straight hours, but there was no way they were going to a motel now. Not with two unconscious bodies in the backseat. There was some coffee in his future. A lot of coffee. Damn, he was going to crash hard when they got back. Just in time to lay siege on heaven, as Cas might have phrased it. Wasn’t his life just a goddamn peach?

 

* * *

 

“Cas, I’m nodding off,” Dean had to admit after about 7 hours of the trip back were behind them. He had felt half-past exhausted for a while now, but, at this point, he was endangering the lives of his passengers – both awake and unconscious. Cas had at least napped for a while when the drove through Illinois. The former angel looked more than mildly dubious.

“Dean, I don’t have any experience with driving,” Cas said.

“It isn’t that hard, and we’re alone on the road,” Dean grumped. He turned on his blinker and pulled off to the side of the road, facing Cas. When Cas still looked concerned Dean gave him a hard look and opened his door. “Cas, if you don’t take over, I’m going to crash the car and kill all of us.” Cas watched from the passenger seat as Dean walked all the way around the car and opened the other side, gesturing for Cas to slide over. He finally did, gripping the wheel tightly. Dean just tried to focus on the fact that it would only take him five minutes to give Cas the basics and then he could crash. Five minutes. He could handle staying awake for five goddamn minutes.

“Ok, Cas,” he said, buckling his seatbelt because he trusted Cas but he wasn’t completely suicidal, “now turn the key in the ignition and we can get this party started.”

 

* * *

 

Henry was still up, playing solitaire this time, when the phone rang. He had been alone for a while so the noise of the phone cut through a good deal of silence and scared him. He looked to see Dean’s number flashing on the screen and answered quickly.

“Dean, did you get them?” he asked.

“Yes, they are here,” Cas’s voice came back from the other end. Henry squinted his eyes in confusion.

“Why are you using Dean’s phone?” Henry asked. He heard a sigh from the other end.

“Dean left his phone on the seat and it was easier to reach than my new one,” Cas said. He sounded frustrated. “In addition, he hasn’t called because he is still sleeping.” Henry stilled.

“Does that mean you are driving his Impala?” he asked apprehensively.

“Yes, he has forced me to so that he could sleep,” Cas said. “Anyway, we will be arriving back shortly. Actually, in only a few moments. But we may require your help bringing Lisa and Ben in. They are… somewhat indisposed.”

“Um, sure,” Henry said. He wasn’t going to bother asking. Cas had this tone he couldn’t quite place, but it sounded like the former angel was angry about something. He didn’t really want to push him any further.

“I will see you shortly. Goodbye, Henry,” Cas said formally. The phone cut to silence as Cas hung up. Henry checked his watch. It was 3 am, so he was probably the only one up, although with the hours people ran in this place there was no guarantee. He stood up from the coffee table in the living room and walked around to the door and out around the hallway back to the entryway and stairs. He took them two at a time, throwing the door open when he got there. He was just in time to see the Impala rumbling up along the driveway, pulling to a stop in front of the bunker. The engine cut out.

Cas sat in the driver’s seat. He gave Henry a small wave and then leaned over to give Dean a sharp shove, waking him instantly. Without being able to hear what the hunter was saying, Dean waking up was hilarious looking. He sat up in over-large, comical movements, his arms flailing around as he tried to orient himself. He finally turned to see Cas sitting in the driver’s seat, staring at him without humor and calmed down, glaring while he was at it.

Henry came forward to Dean’s window and knocked on it. Dean turned his glare to his grandfather and pushed his door open, shoving Henry back slightly.

“I heard you might need a hand,” Henry said. He glanced at the backseat. A woman with brown hair that fell lightly against her shoulders and wearing a green shirt was conked out against the right side door. Next to her, also sleeping against his door, was a teenage boy who had brown hair to match his mother’s. He had a sloping nose that absolutely emulated Dean’s, besides the fact that their jawlines were incredibly similar. There was no doubting the fact that Ben and Dean had very similar looks.

“Why are they asleep?” Henry asked. He had not expected to find this. At all. Especially not if Gabriel had held up his deal.

“Gabriel knocked them out,” Dean said.

“Ah, so he did come,” Henry said. He glanced sideways at Dean apologetically. Dean gave him a confused look in response.

“Um, yeah? Why, did you talk to him about something?” Dean asked. Henry clammed up and searched for a quick excuse.

“I just mean,” Henry scrambled, “he came when you called? Because I didn’t know if he would. In case you had needed help. Which you apparently did.” He added, gesturing to the silent bodies in the Impala. Cas gave him a suspicious look but didn’t say anything.

“So, let’s get them out of the car,” Dean said, clapping his hands together.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Dean made pancakes. At Cas’s request. Apparently he was still tense and pissed off about being asked to drive the car when he had no former knowledge of how to perform that task. Dean was up first, with Cas sitting at the bar, as everyone filed in in the morning. Coffee was made, pancakes were flipped, barstools were set around the table to make room for the extra people present. As far as Henry knew, Lisa and Ben were still out cold. Which was probably not the best thing, but not something to worry about at this point. Sarah came in the room last, with Bess in tow, looking uncomfortable. Sam jumped up and grabbed a chair, pulling it out for Sarah. She smiled and sank into it gratefully, Bess on her lap.

“Who’s ready for pancakes?” Dean asked. He flipped over another golden disk gracefully, catching it in the pan with a quick flick of his wrist.

“I got them,” Mary said. She grabbed the plate from Dean that had the pile of already finished pancakes and sat them on the table. “Sarah, right?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” Sarah said. Mary smiled at her.

“I’m Mary. You want some coffee?”

“That would be fantastic,” Sarah nodded along. Mary turned her attention to Bess, who was back to hiding against her mother. Far too many strangers at once, Henry figured. Mary bent down so she would be at eyelevel, if the girl had been facing her.

“Hey, sweetheart, you want some pancakes?” she asked softly. She touched Bess’s arm lightly to let the girl know she was talking to her. Bess turned around slowly and looked at Marys’ face and nodded shyly. Mary smiled again and stood to get the things from the kitchen.

Breakfast was a fairly crazy affair. Charlie and Kevin were arguing about the differences between the different versions of Star Trek. At least, that’s what it sounded like from the other end of the table where Henry sat. Every now and then, Dean would jump in and make a point, gesturing wildly. Cas just nodded in agreement with everything the hunter said, as if he understood a single word of the conversation. Mary spoke quietly with Sarah, who smiled a couple of times and was even coaxed into the Star Trek debate slightly later on.

Bess came out of her shell more, although she wasn’t so fantastic in the formation of full sentences just yet. Mainly she would just occasionally spurt out a huge amount of nonsense with a couple of words that actually made sense here and there. Sam pulled some faces at her now and then and got her to laugh loudly, causing her to fall back against her mother as she giggled. Sarah smiled at Sam gratefully.

Henry jumped around the table, adding pieces to conversations here and there. He got Sam started the story about LARPing with Charlie.

“I mean, it is so obvious that Dean is chomping at the bit to get in these clothes,” Sam said. Dean glared at him from across the table, eating his pancakes with more aggression. “And now he’s finally all dressed up and walking around as the _queen’s handmaiden_ ,” Kevin and Mary both burst into laughter as Dean glowered at the table and Sarah tried to respectfully hide a smile.

“Hey, you got involved too,” Dean said, pointing at Sam across the table. “Don’t pretend you didn’t get all dressed up when Charlie needed our help.”

“I think it was very brave of you both to offer your help,” Charlie smiled. Then glanced at Dean mischievously, “although I think more may have been in it for the Queen’s handmaiden than just helping out a friend.” Henry snorted and Dean glared again.

“So, what happened?” Sarah asked. Charlie turned to her.

“Well, we beat the bad guy,” she said. “These two walked in on what would have been a magical evening and sent the scary-gorgeous fairy with make out skills that are truly legendary away to her own land again. Which means there was no getting lucky involved in my little portion of the adventure.”

“Hey, we still helped you out,” Dean said. He still looked uncomfortable. Cas was giving him an amused look that Henry took to mean he wouldn’t be letting Dean forget this particular story.

“We did,” Sam said, clearing his throat, obviously intending to end it there.

“You helped by getting into your _own_ costume,” Dean said, pointing accusingly again, “and marching into battle in the middle of a park! In a ponytail!”

“We’ve already covered the ponytail,” Mary interjected with a grin.

“Oh, I haven’t,” Sarah said with a sly grin of her own. Dean glanced at the side of her head with a smile.

“And you still haven’t seen that picture!”  Charlie said. Sam and Dean both groaned.

“Charlie, so help me God, if out that picture—“ When there was a loud crash in the hallway, everyone silenced instantly. Dean stood up from the table with his gun, followed shortly by Mary. Sam also removed his firearm, but remained standing by the table. Dean gave a quick chin jerk towards one wall and Mary nodded, falling against it quickly. Dean took a deep breath and jerked his chin again, both of them jumping into the hallway back to back. Dean’s face fell into surprise and he lowered his gun.

“Oh, uh, I can explain,” Dean said. There was another loud clatter that sounded like something long and metallic dropping to the ground. Then a voice, high and shocked.

“Dean?” the voice whispered. Dean’s mouth dropped open and he stammered without words for a couple of seconds. Henry quickly got up from the table and marched purposefully towards the doorway.

“Lisa?” Dean finally got out. His tone was cautious. “You know who I am?” Henry finally got the door and leaned around to look down the hallway. Lisa looked up at him sharply in shock and then looked back at Dean.

Lisa stood there, a fireplace poker laying on the floor in front of her where she had presumably dropped it. A small table was knocked over off to the side, right next to the leg that belonged to the boy standing right next to Lisa. He was taller than Henry had assumed he would be, when he was sitting in the car. He had a couple of inches on his mom, and was probably pretty near in height to Dean, as far as Henry could observe.

“Yes, I know who you are,” Lisa said as if it were obvious, then her vision clouded for a moment. “But I didn’t… I forgot.” She looked down in confusion.

“I did too,” Ben said. Henry and Dean flipped their heads at the same time to look at him. He was looking directly at Dean, hard and angry. No one spoke for a moment until Mary cleared her throat.

“Would you two like some breakfast?” she asked. Ben and Lisa looked at her like she had just proposed they build a snowman using theoretical physics and flamethrower. “I’ll take that as a no, then,” she mumbled. She realized, belatedly, that she was still holding her gun and quickly flicked the safety back on before shoving it in her jeans with an apologetic look towards the Braedens.

“Why didn’t we remember you?” Lisa asked. She had a bit more of her confidence back and now she sounded accusatory. “It was years ago. I was… possessed.” She gulped.

“You were in the hospital and you acted like you didn’t know us,” Ben said. He was glaring at Dean terribly. Dean looked back and forth between the two of them, unsure what to say. Cas came up behind him two quietly that no one even noticed him until he spoke.

“I did it,” Cas said. Henry winced and looked at him. Dean looked down. Henry glanced back and saw most members of the breakfast party had gotten out of their chairs and started moving into the hallway, sluggishly, like they were in slow motion.

“Dean asked me to remove your memories of him so that you would be safe,” Cas said, explaining further. Lisa glared at Cas and then at Dean.

“You did this?” Lisa asked. Dean sighed and looked up.

“I did,” he said, “to make sure you were never put in danger again because of me.”

“Then why are we here now?” Lisa shouted.

“Because I called him,” Ben said, still never removing his eyes from Dean’s face.

“So, really, about that breakfast,” Mary said again in a cheery tone. Yeah, people were mad now, but just wait until they found out the rest. Dean was going to skin him alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Cold As Ice by Foreigner.  
> (Side note: I actually finally finished writing this monster so updates should be coming more frequently.)  
> To listen to a song I wrote while working on this piece which is supposed to be a lullaby from Mary to Dean, go here: http://goo.gl/CGTPPF


	11. I Am Known as a Killer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is a seriously short chapter, but I wanted it to have its own place.

_The Braedens had been a distraction, but they wouldn’t be for much longer. After all, what’s a bitch and her kid matter to the fate of the world? Then again, these were the_ Winchesters _he was talking about._

_Straying from the point._

_It was almost time. They would be here by tomorrow, guaranteed. He would make sure. The stir-craziness would end at last when he got to slice their throats. He really had spent far too long in hiding. Never knowing what it felt like to have blood on your hands? Just no way to go through life, in his humble opinion._

_Well, humble is probably the wrong word._

_Now that he had a taste for it, he ached to know another mud man’s pain. To feel the sorrow as their souls were ripped from their tissue-paper bodies. They thought they could really attack him? It almost made him want to laugh. The_ arrogance _. But it would be over soon._

_ Yes, the Winchesters were coming to Heaven. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from Heart Killer by Gossling


	12. Highway to Heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some of that family bonding you've all been waiting for. And who's up for breaking into Heaven?

From the way the red mark on Dean’s face was glowing, Henry could only assume the slap had packed a lot of power. Dean was scowling at the table. Cas wasn’t touching him, just sitting next to him, somewhat smug, like he had known this was going to happen. It was an especially cocky act considering there actually were two people who had known this was going to happen, and one was sitting opposite Dean at the table while the other washed dishes.

Sarah came over to Henry and handed him her plate, which he put in the sink.

“Where’s Bess?” he asked.

“With Sam,” she responded. “Want some help?” Henry smiled.

“Sure, you dry,” he said. She grabbed a towel and began drying the plates Henry had already set aside.

“So, Lisa and Ben?” Sarah asked quietly. As far as Henry knew, they were back in their rooms.

“Lisa and Dean used to be together,” Henry answered. Sarah hummed.

“And now he’s with Cas?” she inquired. She maintained a level look of curiosity.

“Yes,” Henry said. Sarah smiled widely.

“Always knew that bravado was compensating for something,” she chuckled. Henry covered a smile by rubbing his chin with his shoulder.

“Henry, come on,” Mary’s voice came from her place at the table. Henry winced as he looked over at her. Yes, she was right. It was time.

“I’m afraid I have to go start a very big fight with Dean,” Henry whispered to Sarah. He wiped his hands on a towel and started to walk away before Sarah grabbed his arm sharply. Henry looked at her in shock.

“How are you related to Sam and Dean, Henry?” she asked quietly, insistent. There was a fiery curiosity in her eyes. Henry looked at her for a moment, considering. Well, she might as well know. He met her eyes.

“I’m their grandfather,” he responded evenly. Sarah’s grip loosened slightly but her face didn’t change to reveal any level of shock. She nodded once and then released him entirely.

“Thank you for telling me the truth,” Sarah said. Her voice remained level and calm.

“Thank you for believing me,” Henry smiled tightly and walked over to join Mary, Dean, and Cas at the table. Henry cleared his throat and got Dean to look up.

“Dean,” Henry began. His voice was going to crack, he just knew it. “I’m the one who asked Gabriel to bring Lisa and Ben’s memories back.” The skin around Dean’s eyes tightened sharply and his mouth formed a semi-furious “O”.

“You?” he accused. He sat up straight in his chair. Even Cas was glaring at Henry.

“And me,” Mary admitted quietly. Dean seemed at a loss for words for a few seconds then stood up sharply, yelling.

“What. The fuck. Were you thinking?” Dean asked. He didn’t give them time to answer and Henry saw Sarah quickly scuttle out of the room. “This was my choice and I made it years ago, and you both went behind my back like this? How dare you?” He was gripping the chair in front of him tightly and Henry worried he might break it.

“For nothing but selfish reasons,” Henry said, trying to get it all out quickly. “I wanted to know Ben and I wanted him to know me. I wanted to know my great-grandson.” Dean’s face warped into a new level of fury.

“You’re right, Henry, it was selfish,” Dean said, still shouting. “You think it wasn’t hard to say goodbye to hi—them?” And now you’ve dragged us into a whole new mess! And what about Cas? You think he’s fine with Lisa being here?” Cas turned his glare in Dean’s direction.

“I think I’ll get through it,” he deadpanned. Dean rolled his eyes.

“My point is that you took away my choice, my fucking choice about my life without asking me or even considering the consequences.” Dean pointed at Mary, “And don’t think you get to walk away clean! I’m pissed at you too.”

“I know, but Dean—“ Mary was cut off.

“But nothing,” he said, voice lowering. “This decision was one of the hardest I have ever made. Sam isn’t even allowed to bring it up. You both thought you could just wander into my life after all these years ad fuck it all up?”

“Dean—“ Cas tried to cut in.

“No,” Dean sounded that scary level of calm now. The calm before the fuck-nado. “We go after Heaven tomorrow. Mary stays with us because we need a way of communicating, but Henry? I want you nowhere near me. We leave at 9 am.” His white-knuckle grip on the chair released and Dean walked out stiffly, followed shortly by Cas. Mary wiped a quick tear from her face and Henry groaned slightly.

“Well,” he said. “That went well.”

 

* * *

 

“Dean,” Mary spoke carefully. He was well into his car, elbow-deep in grease. The hood was propped up and it glinted. Mary shivered and grabbed her own arms. Damn, it was cold. Now that she thought about it, she wasn’t entirely sure why it hadn’t snowed yet. Usually, by this time of year, it had. Dean emerged from the car to grab a wrench and then dived in again.

“What?” Dean asked grumpily. He grunted as he tightened the wrench on something in the engine. Mary came forward and let go of her own arms for long enough to grab a rag and hand it to Dean.

“I am sorry,” she said. Dean sighed.

“But are you?” he responded. He finally grabbed the rag from her hands without looking at her and wiped his fingers off a bit, then tossed the dirtied thing aside.

“I’m sorry that I hurt you,” Mary said. She considered for a moment and finished honestly, “but not sorry that I have a chance of meeting Ben.” Dean snorted without humor and looked at his car. Mary looked at the car, so familiar, even after all these years. It was a miracle the thing was still running.

“You know,” she said. “This is how John used to blow off steam too.” Dean’s face hardened and he glanced away from her at the car.

“Yeah, I know,” he said. Mary looked at him for a moment in an uncomfortable silence.

“What was he like?” Mary asked. She clarified when Dean looked at her. “After I… was gone. What was John like?” Dean considered for a while, spending some time staring at the car with an odd expression on his face.

“He was harder,” Dean said. “Harder than when I met him back in ’78. He was a soldier.” Dean said. Mary took a step closer to Dean and, after considering, leaned around to close the hood of the Impala before taking a seat on it and tapping the space next to her.

“You don’t need to protect him,” she said. Then winced. “Or me. I want to know what happened. I want you to talk to me.” Dean looked at the ground and kicked his foot aimlessly. She tapped the hood of the car more firmly and gave him a sharp look.

“He was a drill sergeant,” Dean said with a huff of breath. He looked up. “He left us alone in old motel rooms with some cash to get us by, because he was focused on finding you. Sometimes we went hungry, sometimes he was rough with us. He wasn’t the joking type. He scared the shit out of Sam when he was younger, honestly. But Sammy grew up.” Mary swallowed.

“Dean, just talk to me,” she said. Dean grimaced and then walked over to the car, taking a tentative seat on the hood.

“I guess I could start back in Lawrence,” he said. And so he told her. They were outside until it was dark. He got more situated on the hood as the hours passed. After about 45 minutes he grabbed his jacket from the passenger seat and gave it to Mary, ignoring protests that he wear it.

He talked about birthdays, about jumping schools, about girls, about Sammy. He got her to laugh so hard she couldn’t breathe, and he got her to cry every now and then, but he told her. He told her the honest truth about John. That he wasn’t there. That he didn’t know what he was doing and that it fucked him up. He told her about Sam and John fighting, and about John leaving, about finding him again only to lose him. She leaned against him, head on his shoulder while he talked, taking in his voice and smile, absorbing all she could. He was more distant when he talked about Hell, but he had been talking for so long he just continued through it instead of brushing it off like he normally did.

He got to talk about Cas. The first time he had marched into that farm, throwing lightening around the sky and just generally showing off. About how Cas rebelled and lost everything, how he got it all back and lost his way in finding freedom, and how he finally found his way back to Dean, a little crazy and a bit more worn.

He told her, the very first person he ever told, about falling in love. About Benny teasing them when they curled up together sometimes at night, not that the Vampire really meant it. And how much it hurt when he thought Cas was gone for good.

“He just pissed me off so many times,” Dean grumbled with a halfway there laugh. Mary smiled against his shoulder.

“That’s love,” she laughed back. The stars were out. It was freezing, but it didn’t matter.

“Mom,” Dean whispered. She hummed back in response. “I’m glad that you came back.”

“Well, I’d be offended if you were mad about it,” Mary smiled. Dean chuckled.

“I don’t usually do this,” he admitted. “The talking thing.”

“That’s ok,” Mary said. She hid a partial smile. “I’m not generally that great on the talking thing either.” Dean smiled. “I’m sorry about Lisa and Ben,” she said again. Dean shrugged, which rattled Mary’s head a bit.

“I’m sorry for never talking to you,” he said. “Henry kept telling me to.”

“I’ve been practicing talking to Gabriel,” Mary said. The urge to come clean came over her suddenly and without warning. Dean didn’t react much.

“I figured,” Dean said. “It’s probably good, considering we need you two to be able to talk tomorrow.”

“True.”

“Speaking of,” Dean said. He looked down at Mary and shrugged his shoulder. She sat up. “We should probably go to sleep if we are still planning on, you know, killing angels tomorrow.”

“Not a bad idea,” Mary laughed. She sighed and stretched, reaching her hands up into the air, the sleeves of Dean’s coat falling back a little bit so her hands poked out of the over-long fabric. Dean slid off the front of the car and held out a hand.

“Come on,” he said. She grabbed his hand and slid off after him. He held out an arm like he was escorting her to a dance and she took it with a laugh. They walked back to the bunker arm in arm, smiling. They went to their own rooms and Dean fell asleep quickly, wrapping his arms around Cas like he was a warm sweater. Mary spent a long time looking up at the ceiling, just thinking. Thinking of Dean, of John, of Heaven. There was a lot to be done, and she was going to be standing next to her sons when the world was made right again.

 

* * *

 

Henry was surprised when Dean started the day with a handshake. He walked into the kitchen, looked Henry in the eye, shook his hand, and that was it. “It is forgiven” was the implied message and Henry took it without question. Whatever had happened when Mary went to talk to Dean the day before must have worked. Not to mention they had been out in that freezing air for hours. Mary woke up and walked into the room looking unspeakably happy considering they were about to walk into a fight way out of their league.

Breakfast went well enough. Well, breakfast went fucking fantastic considering how breakfast the previous day had gone. So count blessings, Henry figured. Dean and Cas sat close together at the table, occasionally smiling at each other. If anyone had bothered to glance under the table, they would have seen that their Dean’s right leg was wrapped around Cas’s left. But no one did. Sarah smiled at them from the back. Honestly, though, they were practically occupying the same space, shoulders touching. They should have been knocking elbows for the entirety of the meal, but they somehow avoided it.

The only speed bump probably was when Lisa and Ben showed up. The room was filled with laughter and Dean was looking at Cas with that “madly in love” face he sometimes pulled when they walked in. Dean straightened instantly (which earned him a kick under the table and an annoyed glare from Cas). Henry had been leaving food for them at their rooms, after they refused to come out. Ben had opened his door when Henry brought him dinner so he had received a better look at the boy. Ben had just thanked him quietly and took the food, shutting the door again quickly.

But now. Now they were there for breakfast. Dean jumped up.

“Um,” he started smartly. Henry caught Sam rolling his eyes at the table. “Food,” he continued. Henry internally winced. Lisa rolled her eyes at him, which was a positive side.

“Calm down, Dean,” Lisa said. Mary laughed and tried to turn it into a cough. The awkwardness hung in the air like unclean, dust-covered curtains.

“Let me grab a couple chairs, Lisa,” Sam said. He got a small smile from the woman. Chairs were set at the table, Ben sliding in next to Sarah, Lisa jammed between Henry and Sam. Dean came back to the table with plates of eggs and toast, plus a mug of coffee for Lisa and some orange juice for Ben. He slid back into his seat.

They were squeezed tight, everyone touching arms and bumping elbows. For a while there was only the sound of chewing. Dean looked like he was resolved not to touch Castiel, which was, besides pissing Cas off, just next to impossible.

“Did I ever tell you guys about the time Dean got ghost sickness?” Sam suddenly said. And then everything normalized. Dean glared at Sam throughout most of the story, resolutely refusing to laugh. Cas cracked many smiles, looking back and forth from Sam to Dean. Henry thought Lisa would have been pretty stupid to miss it, but he wasn’t paying that much attention.

“That was scary!” Sam imitated Dean in a high voice, which sent most of the table into peals of laughter. Lisa and Ben were more resigned, but Sam got a laugh from them every now and then. Lisa was mostly refusing to look at Dean anyway. Ben rarely took his eyes off of him. Sam approached the end of the story, recounting Bobby’s ingenuity with a reminiscent smile which was shared by Dean and Cas.

“You know, I almost died,” Dean growled as Sam laughed his way through the end of the case.

“You were fucking terrified of that Yorkie,” Sam wiped an eye.

“Language,” Mary admonished with a quick wink. Lisa gave her an odd look.

“Why is it that when I end up on cases with you guys,” Kevin asked, “everything sucks?”

“Yeah, why is that?” Charlie added.

“Oh, come on,” Kevin scoffed at her. “You got them to LARP. That’s a pretty great story. Plus you at least got to make out with a hot fairy at some point.”

“Touché,” Charlie laughed. “What about you, Sarah? Any good stories?” Sarah gave a tight smile.

“Only two cases,” Sarah said. “One ended… pretty well,” she glanced at Sam with a bashful smile and Dean barked a laugh before getting elbowed by Cas and shutting up. “The other ended with me almost dying. So, not so much with the great stories.” Bess began tugging on her mom’s shirt and Sarah apologized and excused herself, taking Bess into her arms and into the other room. “She needs a change, I think.” She said as she left.

“I know we won’t get much with Mary,” Charlie said. “Sorry, just not a lot of time spent with them so I can only assume.” She added when Dean glared at her. May shrugged her shoulders. It was only the truth.

“What about me?” Henry asked. Charlie rolled her eyes.

“I’ve already heard all of your stories, Gramps,” Charlie said. Ben squinted at the nickname but said nothing.

“How do you know?” He asked. “I could have saved a great one that you’ve never heard.” He hadn’t. But being discounted out of hand wasn’t so fun.

“Right, I’m still calling bullshit,” Charlie said.

“Language,” Mary admonished again, calling from the sink where she had started running some water.

“Whatever you say, Mama W,” Charlie called back with a smile.

“I’m sure I have some that you do not know,” Cas said, looking at Charlie. Dean groaned.

“No,” Dean said. “Sorry, Cas, but you are no good at stories.” This earned him another shove and Henry laughed.

“He’s right, Cas,” Sam said, shrugging. He leaned back in his chair. Well, as much as was allowed, maneuvering his shoulders around those next to him. Lisa tried to shift her chair over but it was already flush against Henry’s. Cas gave Sam his own glare, which lacked a certain level of threat when he was without the backup of, how should he put it, heavenly wrath?

“I’ve been learning stories since before your species walked the earth,” Cas growled. Dean put his hand on Cas’s shoulder.

“Simmer down, dear,” he said, heavy with sarcasm, and then chuckled.

“You know,” Lisa said suddenly. She was looking at Dean and Cas now. “We don’t really know you all very well.”

“Yeah,” Ben added. It was the first word he had spoken so far. Everyone turned to him and he shifted uncomfortably. “I mean, we don’t know your names, but you all seem to know us.”

“Well, I’m Henry,” Henry said, figuring he might as well start before Dean started stumbling all over himself. He pointed at each person as he listed their names. “As for the rest, we have Charlie, Kevin, Mary over there at the sink, you know Dean and Sam, that’s Castiel, and then Sarah and Bess are, ah, right there.” Sarah walked in just in time to smile and wave a hand.

“Ok, that’s all fine,” Lisa said, her lip turning up in a small smile, “but how do you all know each other? I mean, the nicknames in here are ridiculous.” Dean opened his mouth.

“Well, we’re all just hunters—“ he said. Lisa held up a hand.

“No bullshit, thanks very much,” she said. That shut him up. Henry looked at Dean with raised eyebrows. Finally, he got the nod.

“Alright, fine,” Henry said. “Charlie, they met on a case.”

“The little sister I never wanted,” Dean interjected with a quirk of his lip. Charlie gave him a smile.

“Kevin is a prophet,” Henry said. Lisa’s eyebrows raised. “Again, met through work.”

“Right,” Lisa said. Ben looked at Kevin with uncertainty. Really, Henry was just putting the worst at the end.

“Cas is, well, was an angel,” Henry said. He winced at Cas in apology. He just nodded.

“Not anymore?” Lisa asked.

“No,” Dean said shortly. He got a glare from Cas.

“And that’s it?” Lisa asked. She was focused on Dean and Cas. So, she knew then. Or she assumed. Dean looked to the side avoiding her eyes until Cas gave him a really furious kick under the table.

“Ah, ouch, son of a bitch,” Dean grumbled, grabbing his leg. Cas apologized softly but had the hint of a smile playing at his lips. “Ok, fine, no. That’s not it. We’re together. God, you’re possessive.”

“I just insist on truthfulness,” Cas said. The smile tilted his lips a bit more. Lisa stared at them for another beat of silence, eyes a bit wider and then turned back to Henry.

“Ok, Sarah they met on a case too, I’m assuming?” was all she asked.

“Um, yeah,” Henry said. He shook his head once, quickly, returning to the job of introductions. “Mary and I are, uh, slightly more complicated.” He said.

“Oh, please,” Lisa said.

“Well, in his defense, it’s true,” Sam said.

“Henry’s our grandfather, ok?” Dean said. Lisa gave him a small laugh, smiling until she realized no one else was.

“Wait, are you serious?” she asked.

“That’s why they call you Gramps?” Ben asked. He was looking at Henry with wide eyes.

“Against my will,” Henry grumbled.

“And you?” Lisa asked, aiming the question at Mary walked back to the table.

“Mama W,” Ben said. Lisa looked at him, along with Mary. “You’re their mom.” He said.

“Nicely deduced,” Mary smiled.

“And I’m the ghost of Christmas past,” Gabriel said from the doorway. Lisa jumped out of her chair with a muffled scream of surprise. “Now, who is ready to take on Metatron?”

 

* * *

 

“Everyone ready?” Dean asked the group in front of him. They were in the war room, mainly because it was the biggest area in the bunker, and they were all really tired of being jammed into a space that was too small for them. Charlie, Kevin, Sarah, Bess, and The Braedens stood around the outskirts. The group attempting the actual attack stood in a more central circle, and each person nodded.

“Rules,” Gabriel grinned. “Everyone stick to your groups. Hold hands to make sure you don’t get lost!” He got a universal eye roll. “Fine, then. I’ll take us all to the central location, put Team “Less Awesome” on the right track to Metatron, and then I’ll fly Team “Fuck Yeah” to our distraction point. Clear?” Everyone nodded again.

“We’ll be back,” Sam said, turning to look at Sarah. She nodded and walked forward to give him a hug. He waved at Bess. “Bye, Bessy,” he smiled. She smiled and waved back shyly.

“Charlie, Kev,” Dean said, “You’re in charge. You know the deal.” The message that was implied was that the two knew what to do if the rest of them didn’t make it back.

“Ok, enough niceties,” Gabriel said. “Bring it in.” He put his hand in the center of the ring like they were doing a team cheer and Henry could see the eye roll barely contained in Dean’s face.

“Let’s go,” Dean said.

“Alright, break,” Gabriel said and then everything twisted and tightened, the bunker disappearing into something else entirely.

 

* * *

 

Dean barely saw Gabriel, Henry, and Sam land before they disappeared again with a twist and the explosive sound of flapping wings. Mary’s hands were on her knees, momentarily disoriented by the trip. Yeah, Dean wanted to say, traveling via Angel Express could do that to you. Cas was looking around with a ridiculously even expression and Dean finally turned his attention to their surroundings.

This was not like his Heaven.

There were no memories, no young Sam lighting fireworks in a field from who knows how many years ago, no memories of his mom making him a sandwich after some fight with Dad. It was brighter here, and the walls were almost there, nearly opaque, although Dean couldn’t see anything through them on the other side. It was like they were hanging in a semi-blue cloud of air. The walls stretched up forever, far out of Dean’s eye-line.

Besides that, there didn’t seem to be any doors. This wasn’t a memory, this was the angels’ side of Heaven, and it looked it. Inhuman, lacking qualities of normalcy even while it attempted to replicate the same basic shape as human rooms. There was something inherently wrong about it to Dean, like one word being misspelled in a huge paragraph so you could sense something was up but it takes you a while to put your finger on it.

“Wow,” Mary breathed out beside him. She was standing up straight now, looking around in awe. “I’ve never seen this side of Heaven.” Dean cleared his throat.

“Cas, you know where we’re headed?” he asked. Cas nodded.

“Yes, it’s this way,” he walked towards one of the light-colored walls and put a hand against it softly. Dean followed him and, after a moment, put his hand against the surface as well. It was like touching quartz. Wet quartz. The texture was against everything Dean expected and his hand lifted away from the wall with a start but, despite the damp feeling of the wall, his hand was entirely dry. Freaky-ass angel magic.

“Cas, that’s a wall,” Dean said. And yes, it was obvious, but that didn’t seem to occur to Cas. Cas’s fingers clenched against the wall quickly, in a split second and then he lowered it.

“Yes, thank you for that observation,” he said in a mildly annoyed tone. Dean breathed quickly out of his nose and tried to remain calm.

“Ok, then how are we getting through the wall?” He asked in a relatively quiet voice.

“Heaven works differently than earth, as I have said,” Cas said. He faced Dean and Mary. “Physical properties are very different in Heaven as, for the most part, physical beings don’t move within it. Heaven is a place more focused on the mind. You have both moved around Heaven before, you must carry some memories of the differences.”

“Yes, I do,” Mary said. She squinted for a moment and then shook her head. “Sorry, still getting used to that. Gabriel said they are ok and starting their part of the plan.”

“Cas, moving through my memories was impossible to control and basically random,” Dean said, mostly ignoring Mary. “I am relying on you here. How are we getting through this?”

“Using our minds,” Cas said simply. He turned back to the wall and put his hand against the surface again, closing his eyes and turning his face skyward. “Put your hand on the wall,” he ordered softly. Both Winchesters did so obligingly, feeling the odd surface again.

“Ok, now what?” Dean said. Without answering, Cas put the last two fingers of his hand over Dean’s.

“Do the same with your hand and Mary’s,” Cas instructed without looking. Dean moved his other hand so that it was also on the wall and then laid it partially across Mary’s fingers.

“Fine, now what?” Dean said. He was getting seriously pissed. They hadn’t gone over this portion of the trip, relying entirely on Cas’s knowledge of Heaven to get them where they needed to go. Gabriel couldn’t have put them directly within Metatron’s particular circle of Heaven because alarms would have been tripped, apparently. Because everything just had to be that much harder. And Cas couldn’t even fly so what was the point of all this?

His train of thought was abruptly cut off when there was a shift in the air and his surroundings changed entirely. His hands were no longer against the wet quartz of the white walls, but hanging in open air, still touching Cas and his Mom.

“Whoa,” Mary breathed again. Their hands dropped.

“Want to explain what just happened, Cas?” Dean asked. Cas looked around and nodded to himself once with a slight upturn of his lips.

“We made our first move,” Cas said. “Heaven works using thoughts, and can only be navigated by those who know the way, as I do. We moved from the, I guess you would call it, the ‘entryway’ area into a new room.” Dean looked around. Open grassy plains surrounded them, a slight breeze rustling the green masses lightly. There were trees far off in any given direction, but for the most part they were totally exposed with no end in sight. The open sky above them went on forever like the normal sky might. Dean raised an eyebrow.

“New room?” he asked.

“Yes,” Cas said. He started walking away, to his left, without another word, marching purposefully. Dean swore loudly and began tramping after him, Mary close behind.

“Ok, fine, we made it through Heaven’s mud room and now we’re in the garden,” Dean said, catching up to Cas. “How many more rooms do we have to get through?” Cas knelt down suddenly and Dean almost tripped over him, catching himself at the last moment. He clenched his fists and tried not to think about how good it would feel to punch something. Sometimes Cas really was obtuse. Cas used one of his hands to grab onto Dean and the other slapped down onto the dirt ground beneath a swatch of green grass.

“Nineteen,” Cas said, and the air shifted around them again.

 

* * *

 

“Where are we heading, Gabe?” Sam asked. They were currently in a room the size of a school gym, almost like a warehouse, though it was much better kept. Henry ran his hand along the floor and found no traces of dirt. He stood up straight again and turned to look at the archangel.

“Metatron can’t know what the other Winchesters are up to, or they’ll end up dead,” Gabriel said. He paced a circle around Sam and Henry, then snapped his fingers. Various sigils appeared around the warehouse-like room, covering the olive green walls with thick, black lines.

“And this is a distraction, how?” Henry asked as the sigils finished painting themselves.

“Hold that thought,” Gabriel said. He disappeared with a sharp wing-beat and Sam cursed.

“Remind me to never let our plan rely on Gabriel ever again,” Sam said. Henry snorted. But something felt off. This room. It was warded heavily, no chance of someone getting in, judging by the marks he recognized. So what was the point of all of them? Get Metatron to the room and then keep him outside pounding on the door, unable to get in?

“This feels off,” Henry said. Sam looked at him oddly and then around at the wards. His face shifted to one more cautious. He removed his gun from the back of his pants and Henry did the same.

“Yeah, this is off,” Sam said. “I recognize some of these.”

“Me too,” Henry said. They each walked to a different wall, putting a good 40 feet between each other to look closer at the marks on the walls.

“Gabriel leaving. That wasn’t part of the plan,” Sam called from his side of the room. “At least, he didn’t mention it.”

“No, he didn’t,” Henry called back. He walked a little further down the wall and glanced down, seeing a small ward he hadn’t even noticed at first. It was tiny, but intricate. Beautifully drawn. Henry squatted down. He felt like he recognized the symbol but couldn’t place it. Come on, Henry, all those years studying and this is what you needed it for, Henry thought to himself.

“Where do you think he went?” Sam asked. Henry didn’t answer. The symbol. It was coming back to him. He stood up with a start and turned to Sam quickly. Oh, God. Oh, no. No, no, no.

“Sam!” Henry yelled. Sam turned to him quickly, a questioning look written across his features.

“What?” He called back. Henry felt sick. He was dizzy. This was bad. This was so, so bad.

“It’s Gabriel,” Henry called. He took a couple of steps forward without even thinking about it, trying to put pieces together. “He isn’t with us. This is wrong. The symbol.”

“Very good, Henry,” Gabriel’s voice reappeared. Henry twirled to face him. The archangel was wearing a ghastly grin, unlike anything he had shown before. It was all teeth, all malice.

“What is going on?” Henry asked. Sam jogged a couple of steps forward before Gabriel put up a hand and stopped him in place with a bored hand flick. Sam struggled and cursed.

“What the fuck, Gabriel?” Sam aimed his gun at the archangel and got a terrifying laugh in response.

“I think we both know that gun isn’t going to do any good on me, Sammy,” Gabriel scolded with a disproving expression.

“What are you doing?” Henry asked. Was it all a lie? The symbol. Oh shit, that symbol.

“As Henry appears to be figuring out,” Gabriel said, “you two aren’t leaving here anytime soon. So sorry to ruin any plans you might have had.”

“Why?” Henry asked. Despair was setting in. What about Dean? And Cas and Mary? Were they trapped too?

“Gabriel,” Sam said. He sounded small. He had lowered his gun and was looking at Gabriel like his whole world was collapsing.

“Ah, sorry Sam, wrong again,” Gabriel said. He snapped his fingers and Henry watched in horror as his face started to morph and twist. Sam’s jaw dropped open and his arms hung at his sides loosely. The new mouth stretched a couple of times and then grinned the same way Gabriel’s had when he had walked into the warehouse. “You boys really are gullible,” the new mouth said, with a new voice to match. Oh, God, they really were in deep shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, you've probably noticed there are only two chapters remaining so I'm just going to let you know now that one of them is pretty short. Very close to the end!  
> To listen to a song I wrote while working on this piece which is supposed to be a lullaby from Mary to Dean, go here: http://goo.gl/CGTPPF


	13. Least of All My Fears

“What was that, number 17?” Dean asked. He dropped his hands and looked around at his surroundings. They were now inside what looked like an abandoned office building, lit from an unrecognizable source. Various cubicles sat empty around them, undecorated and lacking computers. It was just desk after desk with a stack of paper and three ballpoint pens all in a line. Identical. Going on and on. It was actually really creepy. Sure, Cas had told them a while ago that what they were seeing wasn’t 100% real and was just something their feeble human minds were constructing to understand the world they were in, but that almost made it creepier.

“Yes, we have only the last room remaining,” Cas said. “Follow me.” He started off down one of the rows of cubicles, carefully avoiding bumping into any of the chrome chairs as he passed them by. Dean smirked as Cas worked his way around one particular chair, twisting his hips around at odd angles. Damn, that guy had a nice ass. Mary gave Dean and shove to shake him from his less-than-heavenly thoughts and they moved forward again.

“Could you keep your eyes on the prize maybe?” Mary said. Dean’s face drained and she smiled behind him mischievously. Dean cleared his throat.

“Ahem, mm, sorry,” he mumbled. Mary smiled wider. “How are the boys?” He asked. Mary did that thing where she squinted and twisted up her face again and then exhaled and nodded.

“They’re fine,” she said. “Gabriel said they are in position and the distraction has officially started so Metatron should be out of the way shortly.” She squinched up her face for a moment like she had smelled something bad and then it settled again.

“What was that?” Dean asked. Mary shook her head.

“Nothing, just thought I felt something off,” she said. “Still adjusting to, you know, talking to an archangel in my head.” Dean looked at her for a moment over his shoulder carefully and then nodded.

“Right, ok,” he said. Cas had stopped in front of them at one cubicle that looked fucking exactly like all of the others except this one was intensely interesting to Cas. “Cas, you wanna let me know what’s going on over here?” Dean asked.

“This is it,” Cas said. “The final point for crossing over to where Metatron is holed up. From here, we will end up directly inside.”

“Well, Mom said that the distraction started, whatever the fuck Gabriel had planned, so let’s go,” Dean said. He was twitchy. He didn’t like Heaven. It made no sense. It was all jumping from fields to beaches to outer space to fucking cubicles and he didn’t like it. He liked driving. Long, open roads that led places you expected, not this bullshit. Cas took a breath. He reached to the angel blade hanging through a loop on his belt.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I must admit I’m… afraid. But I’m ready.” Dean’s eyes softened and he stepped directly into Cas’s space.

“Hey, it’s fine to be scared,” Dean said. He offered Cas a lopsided smile and rubbed a knuckle across the thin layer of facial hair that was there. “You are terrible at remembering to shave, you know,” he laughed. Cas ducked his head slightly.

“It is frustrating and seems so pointless,” Cas said. “It just grows back the next day. The humanity of it is very upsetting to me.”

“Hey, I never minded a little peach fuzz,” Dean joked, recalling to that time so long ago when he had found Cas again in Purgatory. He had been dirty, and a bit worse for wear, but he was there. Whole. And Dean hadn’t wanted to waste another shot. The beginning of them, really.

“No,” Cas smiled, remembering the same moment. “I suppose you never have.” Mary cleared her throat.

“Not to interrupt,” she said, “but we are in Heaven waiting to kill an evil angel and there is only so much time the others can really buy for us.”

“She has a point,” Dean said. Cas nodded, steeling himself, but his eyes betrayed the fear that was still there. No healing himself this time. It was all him. He had to kill Metatron himself. He had to fix what he had broken. He had to make it right.

“Let’s go,” Cas said. He took Dean’s hand and Dean took Mary’s. Mary called out to Gabriel that they were going and then the world shifted around them again.

 

* * *

 

“You,” Sam breathed, looking at the new face Gabriel wore. Henry searched his mind but found no reference, no memory of the man in front of them. He was short, as Gabriel had been before, but with dark hair, a bit graying at the temples, and a scratchy beard along his cheeks. He was also a bit rounder in the middle. Over all, he seemed the picture of normalcy. But Sam was practically shaking in his boots on the opposite side of the warehouse.

“Very good, Sam,” this new man said again. He looked at Sam like he was a star pupil winning an award.

“You aren’t Gabriel,” Henry said. The new man rolled his eyes and sighed with an overly frustrated air.

“Yes, nicely deduced, Henry,” he said. He put his hands in front of himself and linked his fingers together, letting them hang. “But I think I played my part very well, don’t you think?” He asked with a twinkle in his eye and a wink Sam’s way that echoed the first one Gabriel had thrown at Sam weeks ago in the bunker’s dungeon.

“Were you ever Gabriel?” Henry asked. His mind was racing. They had to do something. That sigil wasn’t good. He remembered it now. Back in one of the really old books he had read. The kind of old that you can feel when you crack open the flaking pages. The kind of old that you can smell in the air; it makes you gag and want to breathe it in all the more.

“No, of course not,” the man laughed shortly. He unclenched his fingers and did a sort of halfway-there shrug. “Gabriel has been dead for years.” So, it was true then. It was never Gabriel. Sam’s face had hardened into a biting fury that frightened Henry. He looked ready to breathe fire and chop down skyscrapers.

“You ruined everything,” Sam said. “I almost died.”

“Yes, unfortunate that your brother got in the way, wasn’t it?” the man said, wincing. He paced a bit, back and forth. Back and forth. “I mean, it still kept you both out of the way, so it wasn’t a total loss.”

“Who are you?” Henry asked. The man gave him a pitying glance and shook his head softly.

“Poor dear, so behind in every conversation,” he said. “I’m surprised they even let you stick around. It seems to me you’re fairly useless.”

“Hey,” Sam shouted. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides. “Don’t talk to him like that.”

“And now the protective genes slide into place again,” the man sighed and shook his head in disappointment. “So predictable, you Winchesters. I don’t know why I bother. Boredom was really the cause. Plus, I thought, much better to handle the eventual jab at reopening Heaven from inside the group itself.”

“You bastard,” Henry whispered. This really was happening. If the angel would just tell Henry his name, that would be one thing. He had a pretty good idea, sure. But the angel had been right. Henry was slow. He was left out. He never knew what was going on. The angel kinked his head to one side like he was listening to something, then smiled and slid his head back down to glance between Sam and Henry.

“Well, I hate to leave you in a lurch, but I have just received the call that some people I’ve been expecting have finally shown up,” he said. He shook his hands out to his sides and stretched his neck. “And it would be so rude not to welcome company myself.” With that, he flew out of view.

“Motherfucker,” Sam said. He was able to move again, it looked like, and he was jogging his way back to Henry. “You ok?” he asked.

“Yeah, fine,” Henry answered. “Well, maybe fine is the wrong word.” Sam reached him in the middle of the floor. “Who was that?” Henry asked.

“Henry, we have a very big problem,” Sam said. “Very, very, very big.”

 

* * *

 

Cas took a sharp inhalation of breath as they appeared within the last room, and Dean looked around hurriedly to see what had bothered him, but found nothing wrong. The room was… not how he would have imagined it. They were in the direct center of a large office in mostly muted tones. A light bit of blue shone through the bottom of the walls like a light was on the other side. The room, besides that, was mostly white. White chair, pristine floors, a plate-glass desk, etc.

“What’s up, Cas?” Dean asked as he glanced around again, making sure that there really didn’t appear to be anything inside.

“This was Naomi’s office,” Cas said lowly. Dean took a breath and stepped forward to put a hand on Cas’s shoulder. Mary gave him a sympathetic wince and then continued to look around.

“Ok, next step,” Dean said. He whipped the bag off his arm and unzipped it to remove the stuff Gabriel had put inside to trap Metatron. Instead, he found what looked to be a bag full of Busty Asian Beauties. “What the fuck?” Dean whispered. He pulled out one of the magazines.

“Dean, are you serious?” Mary asked. “Porn? In Heaven?” Dean’s jaw dropped.

“No!” he stammered. “I didn’t! I mean, this wasn’t… I put guns in here. And the stuff Gabriel told me to pack for Metatron.”

“And it isn’t in there?” Cas asked. He stepped next to Dean and knelt down to look inside the bag also.

“No, look, there’s nothing,” Dean said, panic slowly rising in his throat. He had been right, hadn’t he? They trusted Gabriel and now look where they were. Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

“What does that mean? Is he playing another trick?” Mary asked. Her face was all flexed up, obviously trying to call Gabriel.

“No, Mom, don’t!” Dean yelled, standing up. Her face instantly relaxed, and then flexed again, but in more of a confusion than an ‘I’m-talking-to-angels-in-my-mind’.

“Ah, too late, Dean,” a voice said behind them. Dean whirled around and his intake of breath was matched by Cas’s. “You really should have trusted your first instincts when I showed up, Dean.”

“Fuck you,” Dean said. He shook his head at the floor.

“Wait, but you’re Gabriel,” Mary said in confusion from behind Dean. Dean turned to look at her. “I mean, I can still feel your mind. You are Gabriel.” Dean groaned and Cas’s eyebrows pinched. They were in deep shit.

“Mom, that’s not Gabriel,” Dean growled, turning to face the man again. “That’s Metatron.”

 

* * *

 

“ _That_ was Metatron?” Henry asked. Sam nodded with tight movements. Henry groaned. They really were in deep shit. “He doesn’t look how I expected.” He said after a moment.

“Yeah, join the club,” Sam said. He quirked up his lip in a smile lacking humor. “Now, what was this sigil thing you found?” Henry gulped.

“Ah, right, our problem,” Henry said. He turned and started walking back to the wall, Sam following close behind. He walked directly up to the sigil and knelt in front of it, pointing. “It’s that one.”

“It’s really intricate,” Sam said. He knelt down next to Henry. “What does it do?”

“Bad things, Sam,” Henry said. Sam used this opportunity to whip out one of Dean’s so-named bitchfaces. Right, more specific then. “Well, there was this book I read when I was studying about two years ago. It was about angelic sigils, so I didn’t spend that much time on it. We didn’t really buy into the whole angel thing, you see.”

“Henry, the point please,” Sam said in a tense voice.

“Right, well,” Henry continued. “I finally remembered this sigil. Here’s the thing – it can only be drawn by a particularly strong angel, and it can’t just be removed or painted over. It’s there until the angel decides it isn’t anymore.”

“And what does it do that’s so terrible?” Sam asked. Henry let his mind wander back to the book, turning its tissue-paper, yellowed pages.

“It keeps us trapped, but more than that,” Henry said. He struggled to find the right words. “Basically, it keeps us trapped here, for eternity, unable to die or move on, but it also draws on our energy to keep it going. It kills us slowly, only without the actual killing part.” Sam looked at him in silence for a moment, then back to the sigil.

“So,” he said, “we’re trapped. We’re dying. But we can’t die. And Dean, Cas, and my mom are walking into a trap.”

“Basically that’s it, yes,” Henry admitted.

“Terrific,” Sam said with a spurt of breath. Henry agreed wholeheartedly.

 

* * *

 

“Gabriel was never alive, was he?” Cas asked from Dean’s left. Dean didn’t turn to face him, but he could hear the sorrow on the former angel’s voice. Losing his big brother a second time. Dean was going to strip the wings of Metatron and then deep fry him. Twice.

“No, I’m afraid not,” Metatron said.

“Why bother with the charade? Why not just kill us?” Mary asked. She took a half-step forward. “Why bring me back at all?”

“Enticing me into the common villain monologue?” Metatron asked with a half-laugh. “Very well, I’ll oblige on the condition that you all stay put.” He waved a hand and all three humans were thrown into chairs that Dean knew weren’t there a moment ago. He felt like he was strapped down to the chair, although he couldn’t see the bindings. A glance to his Mom and Cas’s struggles proved they were in the same situation.

“You are more powerful,” Cas growled. Ah, there it was. That voice that could shake the earth. And usually made Dean horny as fuck, but this really wasn’t the time for that.

“Glad you noticed,” Metatron smiled. He waved his hands in the air as though to emphasize this fact. “I absorbed a bit of power when you helped me eject the angels. I’m feeling much better than I was only a couple of months ago, my friends.”

“Don’t ever refer to me as your friend, fuck-face,” Dean spat. _Oh yeah, that would get him. Great comeback, genius._

“Where are Sam and Henry?” Mary demanded next. Yes, that’s right, they had been with Gabriel. Metatron. Whatever.

“Indisposed,” Metatron answered demurely.

“I swear to God, if you’ve hurt them,” Dean said. Metatron started laughing before Dean could finish his threat.

“I think you need to be more concerned with your state of being, Dean,” Metatron said. He turned his attention to Cas’s chair.

“Ah, Castiel,” Metatron said. He linked his hands in front of him again. “It is so nice to see you.” Cas glared at him, breathing hard through his teeth. Dean got the feeling that he would begin foaming at the mouth any second. He was at the height of anger, and there was no reeling it in.

“Was betraying me once not enough for you?” Cas said, low and dangerous. “You just needed to come back for more?”

“You want honesty?” Metatron laughed. He glanced around the room and then landed his eyes back on the captives. “I got bored.”

“Son of a bitch,” Dean gave a heartless laugh, looking down.

“It’s true,” Metatron said. He shrugged as if to add what are you going to do? “I’ve been up here all on my own. A couple of weeks passed and, as it turns out, having Heaven to yourself isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. No one to gloat to. Plus, now I had a taste for blood.” He grinned maliciously and a chill went down Dean’s spine. This wasn’t the Metatron they had known before. The bookish, terrified angel who shied away from Heaven. This was Metatron, full of power and with a thirst for blood and pain. This was Metatron _dangerous_. And considering he had completely emptied Heaven of its holier-than-thou inhabitants when he was partially decent, Dean didn’t want to know where this was headed. Plus, he was really more worried about Sam and Henry at this point.

“But what about me?” Mary asked. She squirmed. Dean wanted to chuckle. They were all stalling, he knew that much. Waiting for the others to get here. But it was time to be honest with himself – Metatron knew what he was doing. Sam and Henry, wherever they were, were properly trapped. And they were screwed.

“What about you?” Metatron asked, condescension running thick from his mouth. Mary grimaced at the tone.

“You brought me back immediately,” she said. “That day. You didn’t wait. You didn’t have time to get bored.”

“Ah, yes,” Metatron said, like he was just remembering that himself. He paced a couple of feet back and forth. “You see, I have heard of the Winchesters. I know what they have been able to achieve. And I assumed they would come after me. What I’m saying is that I needed eyes on the inside, my dear.”

“Don’t call her that,” Cas spat out. Dean was close to snarling himself and was grateful for Cas’s interruption.

“And we can’t forget the angel,” Metatron said with a smile, looking at Cas. Dean struggled against his invisible restraints again. “The one who helped me achieve all of this. You have done so much for me, Castiel.”

“No,” Cas said. He growled still. “You destroyed everything. You tricked me. The earth is falling apart. Not only do angels roam around, unchecked, going mad, but there are more human spirits wandering around than there have ever been before.”

“Thanks to you,” Metatron smiled. Cas shook his head. He was losing it, Dean could tell. He was angry, he was upset, guilty, sad – it was going to be too much at once for Cas to handle. He was still adjusting. Dammit, he was going to slice Metatron open with a blunt knife.

“Wouldn’t try that, Dean,” Metatron said. Dean stilled. “Slicing me open, I mean. Bad idea.” Shit. Of course he could read their thoughts. Of course. Because this needed to be worse.

“Was anything you told us true?” Mary asked. She was the calmest of all of them, besides Metatron. She remained serene in her chair, not struggling or shouting.

“I would venture to say no,” Metatron said, with another condescending look. Mary nodded, but her face seemed unfocused, like her mind was somewhere else. “Now, the reason you are here.”

“No, really, we’re on the edge of our seats,” Dean half snorted. He barely had time to finish his sentence before he felt his throat clench up like there was a strong hand around his neck. His eyes bulged in shock and he choked and tried to cough, but his whole wind pipe was blocked. Metatron was glaring at him, he could tell that distantly, but nothing else. He could feel the bones in his neck straining. It fucking hurt.

Dean was also distantly aware that Cas and his mom were calling his name desperately, but he couldn’t respond. His vision was blackening around the edges, his neck straining too much. It was too much. Too much pain, he couldn’t take this. They made it this far and he was going to die like the fucking Empire bastards who pissed of Dark Vader. Then again, spun the right way, that was a pretty cool death story.

The feeling of being strangled left him just before everything went totally black and he wretched and coughed up a sickening level of blood, spitting it at the pristine floors of the office. Everything on his neck hurt. Talking was going to be seriously limited. Finally, the anxious voices could be heard again.

“Dean, Dean are you alright?” Cas’s voice first.

“Dean, talk to us,” Mary said at the same time. Both voices were anxious, neither focusing on Metatron. Dean coughed again and gave a half nod he hoped sufficed for guaranteeing his physical wellbeing because he really, really didn’t want to try and speak just yet.

“As I was saying,” Metatron said, continuing like nothing had happened, “You are here because I knew you would be a problem, and because I really needed some form of entertainment. Luckily, getting rid of all of you served both purposes fairly well.”

“What you’re saying is?” Mary asked, glaring at him for all she could muster. Metatron smiled at her sweetly.

“What I’m saying is that, from now on, the three of you are mine to have fun with. In whatever way I deem most entertaining. And for as long as I want.”

 

* * *

 

“Nothing,” Sam grunted as he rammed into the door of the warehouse for the 3rd time. There really wasn’t any point in trying – this was Heaven, after all – but sitting around with their thumbs up their asses hadn’t sounded like a particularly good way to spend time either.

“That’s the only door,” Henry called. He was staring at the sigil again. He didn’t know how long they had been here, in this room, but it had been a while. It was easy to lose track when your environment remained so entirely stagnant. No changing light outside, no change in temperature, and they didn’t appear to be getting any hungrier. Basically, no way of knowing.

“Any luck with that thing?” Sam asked. He jogged back over to Henry, slightly out of breath. His shirt had a ring of sweat around the neckline and he used his variously blue-tinted, plaid shirt to wipe off his forehead.

“There might be something,” Henry said. He traced the lines of the sigil again with his hand. There were the stirrings of a spell, read only one time, kicking up dirt in the back of his mind.

“Anything you want to share with the class, Henry?” Sam asked. He sounded exhausted so the sarcasm didn’t really sting the way he probably meant for it to.

“It wouldn’t get us out, but it might weaken the hold,” Henry said. Yes, that’s it. He remembered more now. “We’ll need something to draw on these walls with.” Sam sighed and looked around the vacant room.

“Perfect,” he said. Henry looked at their bag of “supplies” in the middle of the room deploringly. The dick who trapped them here may have been Metatron but he still seemed to have Gabriel's sense of humor. Just a bag full of porn. Very useful. Although, in fairness, they might be here a while so… No. Not the time, Henry. Damn, who was he anymore?

“Any way we can use the porn?” he asked Sam with a wince. Sam looked ready to burn a hole in the wall with is eyes alone. “I’ll take that as a no,” Henry said. He sighed. Then stilled. His pants. Which pair of pants was he wearing. He shot to his feet and started going through his pockets.

“Um, Henry?” Sam inquired. Henry ignored him. Back left: no. Back right: no. Front right: there! He pulled the dull pencil out of his pocket with a triumphant yell. Sam gave a shocked bark of laughter.

“Found it!” Henry laughed. “Thank God I wore these pants today,” he added, shaking his head. “Sam, you have your knife?” He asked.

“Sure thing, Gramps,” Sam smirked and grabbed Ruby’s knife from his belt, handing it to Henry. Henry grabbed it and used the edge to sharpen the pencil with quick movements. He grinned the whole time. Now that he thought about it, maybe he didn’t mind the nickname so much after all.

 

* * *

 

Metatron went to work on Cas first. Maybe because they had a history. He didn’t say. One minute Cas was snarling at him, the next he was gasping in pain and his hands were making mad grabs for his stomach. After a minute, a line of blood started to eke out from the corner of his mouth. Dean was on fire. He felt the rage inside him like a wall of flames. He wrenched his body against the invisible restraints, which did nothing but exacerbate the pain in his neck, but he didn’t care.

“Stop it, you bastard,” Dean shouted, all the while looking at Cas. Metatron gave a weak sigh of disdain.

“Humans and their ridiculous emotions,” he said, practically yawning. Cas’s body unclenched and he sagged in the chair, breathing hard. He looked like he was doing a fair job of not whimpering, but Dean wouldn’t have blamed him. Cas finally looked up to meet Dean’s eyes and he gave a halfhearted nod to let Dean know he was still (for the most part) ok. Until Metatron started in again. He came forward and took the angel blade Cas had brought from where it had dropped on the floor, twirling it thoughtfully.

“Appropriate that I use this on you, I think,” Metatron said. Dean was clenching his teeth so hard he could taste blood. Alright, maybe the blood was from the throat squeezing thing earlier, but still. His chin jutted out in indignation and he wanted to spit some of the fire that was burning in his chest at Metatron.

“Why’s that?” Cas croaked, not looking up.

“Seems ironically poignant, I suppose,” Metatron said, looking at the blade with interest. “You can be hurt by any blade I choose now, but to get the job done with the thing that once showed you had power? Yes, that’s even better.” He moved forward with careful steps and put the blade against Cas’s arm, light as a feather. All eyes were trained on the sharp tip. “Do you wish you had died during the fall yet, Castiel?” Metatron asked, and then he pushed the blade down and dragged it against Cas’s skin, ripping it open. Red, hot blood seeped from the wound and Cas cried out, trying to wrench his arm from the chair again.

“Stop it,” Dean shouted. “Stop this!” Metatron lifted the blade finally, leaving a wound about 4 inches in length along Cas’s arm. It was deep enough to be worrisome. He lifted the blade up to his eye line and looked at it almost like he was bored.

“Now the other arm,” he said. Dean shouted in vain. Mary’s face was full-on sorrow. She couldn’t even reach out to try to calm Dean. This was her family. Cas was her family. And this had gone on long enough.

 

* * *

 

Henry’s hand twinged and he set the pencil down on the floor to stretch out the taught muscles. He rubbed at his wrist and looked at his progress thus far. It was a sigil, very similar to the one Metatron had left on the wall, only drawn a couple of inches away and in pencil. The circular part was the same. They were similar in size. And they were equally intricate. Henry stretched his neck out to either side. He had been carefully drawing marks on the sigil for what felt like a good half hour now. Sam paced impatiently behind him.

“Are you done?” Sam asked, noticing Henry had stopped drawing. Henry sighed.

“No,” he responded, maintaining a relatively calm voice. “Just like the last time you asked. My hand was hurting. This needs to be really specific.” He stretched his hand out again and then picked up the pencil, going back to work. It really was hard, in fairness. Plus he was drawing the thing with pencil on a fucking wall. This was not what one might refer to as opportune circumstances.

“How much longer?” Sam asked. Henry turned to glare at him.

“You sound like Dean right now, I hope you know,” he said, then promptly went back to drawing. “Not much longer,” Henry continued. He made another half-inch long line to connect two separate circles, then put a mark that looked sort of like a ‘5’ mixed with a ‘Q’ at the center of one of the circles, focusing intently.

“Sorry,” Sam muttered. He started pacing again. “How do you even remember all of that?” he asked. Henry drew a short line that went just outside of the main circle of the sigil.

“I have a pretty good memory,” Henry said. Sam huffed.

“Yeah, I guess,” he said. “Wish I could help.”

“Find another pencil and then you can talk,” Henry said, smiling slightly with one corner of his mouth. He noted another circle down, crossing multiple lines and creating, at one point, a section that looked like a Venn diagram.

“And this is going to help drain a bit of Metatron’s power?” Sam asked for what must have been the 4th time. Don’t throw the pencil at him. Don’t throw the pencil at him.

“That’s the goal, Sam,” Henry said. He drew a “T” with an uptick at the bottom in the center of the crossover that resembled a Venn diagram, then took a step back. He looked over each mark, each overcrossing line and circle. Considering he was working with a pencil and going by memory, it looked pretty damn good.

“So—“ Sam began.

“If you ask me if I’m done,” Henry interrupted, “I will shove this pencil up your ass. I have one mark to go. We should be able to tell if it works immediately.”

“But we still won’t be able to get out?” Sam asked. Henry grimaced.

“Well, no,” he admitted. “But it might help Dean, Cas, and Mary. Here goes,” he shook his shoulders and went back to the wall, kneeling down. He put his pencil at the bottom of the circle and drew a carefully straight line all the way up to the top, stopping at the upper cap. As soon as his pencil was drawn away, the sigil momentarily lit up in a bright red and a shockwave of air blew past Henry and Sam, knocking them both back a step. Sam whistled.

“Seems like it worked,” Sam said. Henry looked at the sigil curiously.

“I would say it did, yeah,” he said. He shoved the pencil back into his front pocket. Never leaving home without a pencil again for as long as he was alive, and that was a promise. Now they just had to wait and hope. And trust the others had some idea of what they were going to do.

 

* * *

 

Metatron ripped the blade along Castiel’s now bare chest with a swift move and Cas cried out in pain again, throwing his head back in a real expression of pain. Both arms had long cuts along the forearms, and now there were multiple marks across his bare chest and stomach, each wound bleeding. Dean was seething pure heat. Metatron looked over Cas appraisingly, like he was observing a particularly dull painting.

“I think that’s enough for now,” he said primly. Cas sighed, his head dropping back down to his chest, getting his chin bloody in the process. Dean kept his muscles tight and continued to glare at Metatron as the angel whipped a cloth from thin air and began wiping the blade off, cleaning it from the dark red back to shining silver.

“And anyway,” Metatron continued, “I almost think that watching will cause you more pain.” Cas’s head shot back up. His eyes were wet and red. He looked at Metatron in utter terror that Dean really wished he could never see again. Metatron threw the bloody cloth into the air and it disappeared with a snap. All theatrics with this dick. Nothing but theatrics. He just needed his fix.

“Stay away from them,” Mary said. It was one of the first things she had said since they were contained to the chairs. Like the anger was just building up in her, the need to protect growing stronger and stronger, where Dean’s had burst to full mast with one swipe of the blade against Cas’s arm.

“I think not,” Metatron said, giving Mary a horrible smile. He advanced on Dean at a calm pace, twirling the blade again, like he had with Cas. “You suffer in relative silence, Dean. But I think that Cas will not do the same for you.” He came forward and put the blade against Dean’s chin, over a bit to the left and just let it sit there, building the tension with his silence. And then he cut. He sliced down Dean’s chin with a quick movement, leaving a seeping gash. Dean bit back and cry. He worried he might crack his teeth.

“Stop this!” Cas cried out, sounding weak. Mary remained silent. Metatron circled around behind Dean, crossing between the chairs, and Dean got the chance to see Mary’s eyes, focused intensely on Metatron, the hint of a wince on her face.

“Now for the back,” Metatron said.

“You son of a bitch,” Cas growled, less power in his voice than before. “You goddamn son of a bitch.”

“Oh, language, Castiel,” Metatron tutted. “You are an angel, after all.” Dean felt the cold bite of the blade as it was pressed against his shoulder, even through the fabric of his shirt.  He winced but said nothing. Metatron was right. He suffered in silence. He was not going to give the bastard the satisfaction of screaming about it. At least he had stopped hurting Cas. But the blade never pierced his shoulder. After another moment, the cold feeling of the tip disappeared from his shoulder entirely. Dean wrinkled his brow.

“What,” Metatron’s voice was entirely different. Lighter and confused. “What are you doing to me?” The blade clattered to the floor with a loud noise. Dean wrenched his head around to try to look at the angel, but couldn’t quite see his face.

“Bring them back,” Mary growled – actually growled – from her chair. Dean whipped his face around to look at her. That look of concentration was still in her eyes, strong and terrifying, frankly.

“Mom, what are you doing?” Dean asked. Mary didn’t look at him. She gestured once quickly with her head to the space in front of the chairs and Metatron tripped his way over. Now Dean could see his face very clearly.

Panic. He was panicking. He held either side of his head with a tight grip, looking absolutely scared out of his mind.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he whispered, lie obvious.

“Bring Henry and Sam back,” Mary growled again. Metatron resisted for a moment then gave a terse nod. No one appeared within the room, but Mary gave a nod of acceptance, so she must have known something Dean did not.

“Mary, what are you doing?” Cas asked. He sounded as concerned as Dean felt, if not more.

“Now let us up,” Mary said, ignoring the question. With another nod, the invisible restraints were gone and Dean was able to stand. He ran to Cas’s side first and helped him up.

“I’m fine, Dean. Worry about your mother,” Cas said. He was watching Mary with fear.

“You have done enough,” Mary was still talking. She stood up and took a step forward and Metatron took a terrified step back, somewhat involuntarily. He was still holding onto his head. “You have broken enough, you have spilled enough blood.” She winced quickly and Metatron cried out in pain. This only earned a humorless smile from Mary. Dean gulped.

“Please, please stop,” Metatron whimpered. He tripped over a side table in the middle of the room and almost toppled over. “Enough, I can’t take it. Stop!” He fell to one knee. Mary took two more steps forward, hands clenched to her sides. Dean and Cas followed her carefully.

“Dean,” Mary said. Dean tripped to get over to her side in one movement.

“What?” Dean asked urgently. He glanced at Mary’s ear and saw a trickle of blood eek its way out. Shit. Oh, shit. “Mom, what is it?”

“The spell that he cast,” Mary said. She looked like she was having a much harder time speaking now. Metatron was weeping on the floor. Blood leaked from his nose and the corners of his eyes. “It breaks when he dies, as long as you pour the grace that he used over the body.”

“Fine, that’s fine,” Dean said. He tried to put a hand on his mom’s arm but she shoved him off. “Mom, that’s enough, we can take it from here.”

“No, as soon as I let go, he’ll be free again,” she said. She winced and more blood dripped from her ear. “I need to do this. Cas, you know what this means, right?” She asked in the same tone, all without turning her head. Cas was right there next to her too, on the other side.

“Yes,” he said simply. “I thought it might be the case.” Dean looked at both of them quickly.

“What? What does it mean?” He asked. His whole brain was screaming _there is blood coming from her ears you know what this means_ but he was trying to focus even so.

“Cas will be human for g-good,” Mary said. She stammered over the last word and winced again.

“That’s fine, Mary,” Cas said soothingly. He reached out and put a hand on her arm, and she allowed it. “I will be ok.” Mary nodded. She gasped in pain and almost fell, but Dean and Cas were both there to hold her up. She took a couple of breaths.

“When he is dead, Heaven will open,” she continued on. “You’ll have to ask one of the angels who returns to take you back to the bunker, or at least to earth.”

“You mean us, Mom,” Dean said. He held onto her arm with a death grip. “Take us home.” Mary smiled sadly but didn’t turn to look at him. Dean thought she probably couldn’t.

“No, I don’t,” she said. She choked on the last word like she was trying not to cry. Dean’s voice hardened.

“I won’t lose you again,” he said. He held onto Mary’s arm more firmly. “I just got you back. I won’t let you die with this bastard.”

“Dean, I need you to listen to me,” Mary said. She took a breath to level her voice out. “If he dies, I die. We are connected, just like he said. I can tell now. I can see everything. His whole mind, all of it. Henry and Sam did something to weaken him, that’s why I got through now. And he moved them back to the bunker. But honey, I am not going to make it through this.” Dean could feel his heart breaking inside him, cracking along the same lines that had only begun to heal. No. No.

“Mom, stop this, we’ll work something out,” Dean said desperately. “Right, Cas?” He looked to Cas, looked for any measure of support, but found his angel looking at him full of sorrow. He gave a minute shake of his head and Dean thought his knees might give. This might be the end.

“Listen to me,” Mary urged again. Blood started to drip from her nose. She was quieter, losing power. “I love you. I love you so much, and I am so glad I got to know you. No one else gets that chance. I was gone and I got to have you back. We got more time than I could have hoped for, Dean.” Dean’s eyes welled up.

“I love you too, Mom,” he whispered. A tear leaked from the corner of his eye. Dammit, he wasn’t going to let this get to him. He wasn’t going to let this break him again.

“And Sam,” she said with a sigh. “Tell him I love him too. Tell him how special he is to me. And that he deserves to be loved. Ok?” She added at the end. Another tear streaked down Dean’s face. Oh, God. Sam. He was losing her all over again too. He didn’t even get to say goodbye.

“Ok, Mom,” Dean whispered. He moved forward and put his arms around his mother, wishing that she could look at him one last time. That he could look into her eyes one more time before he lost her all over again.

“Cas, you take care of these boys, ok?” Mary said. She gave a small smile.

“Of course,” Cas responded like a soldier. She grabbed around in the air until she found his hand and gave it a squeeze.

“You are mine too, you know,” she said. She squeezed his hand again. “You are my son too, Cas. I love you. And I will miss you.” Cas looked at her earnestly, the soldier in his eyes dropping away until he was all there, raw and broken.

“Thank you, Mary,” he whispered.

“Goodbye, my dears,” Mary said, with a light laugh. Then her eyes slammed shut. Dean just held onto her more tightly, not wanting to have to watch. Every muscle in her body tensed, and Cas’s hand was no doubt going to be left broken, but he made no move to try and get out of the clench. He watched Dean the whole time, the way his body was draped around Mary like a protective blanket. Mary cried out in pain, the blood pouring from her ears and nose, and Metatron was screaming too. Louder and louder and louder until, like a flash, it all went silent, and Mary collapsed in Dean’s arms. Limp. Gone. Metatron lay on the floor, blood around his head, unmoving. It was done.

 

* * *

 

Henry looked around the room in shock. They were back. Sam right beside him, and they were standing in the middle of the war room, just where they had left. Charlie skidded into the room and looked for some sort of answer.

“Well?” she said, “did we get him?” Sam looked down at his arms curiously, and then at the rest of himself like he was making sure he was all there, that nothing had been left behind.

“I’m… not sure,” Henry said honestly. He looked around. “Are the others back yet?”

“No, you’re the first,” Charlie said. He opened his mouth to speak again when all of the alarms in the bunker went off with a vigor he hadn’t seen in weeks. Lights flashed and blinked, and the table lit up like the fucking Fourth of July. Henry slammed his hands over his ears and walked towards the table quickly, looking at all of the little red lights as they each grew brighter and brighter and then finally went out with a sharp buzz and crash. The others who had been left in the bunker ran into the room shortly, hands also clamped down over their ears. Bess was wailing, big tears dripping down her face thickly.

“Dammit,” Kevin swore loudly. He pounded a fist against the table, which did nothing. They knew that from experience. Like Dean wouldn’t have attempted to fix something by punching it.

“What the hell is going on?” Lisa yelled across the room. Sam shrugged helplessly. Charlie dove under the table and ripped off some kind of panel, going for the wires with frantic grabs. Kevin joined her and they both worked as quickly as possible when it all seemed to go silent at the same time. Charlie and Kevin remained frozen, wires still in hand, for a moment before they slowly each slid out from beneath the table and looked around for some indication of what had happened.

“Does that mean it worked?” Sarah asked. She held Bess close to herself and patted the toddler on the back, swaying softly and trying to calm her.

“I have no idea what just happened,” Henry said, furrowing his brow. Everyone jumped when Sam’s phone started ringing furiously and he grabbed for it with a quick movement.

“Yeah, this is Sam,” he answered steadily. His face jumped from businesslike to amusement to confusion in a very short amount of time. “What? Just gone? Yeah, I suppose that must have been us. Sure, Garth. You know what, I’ll call you back, ok? Hasta luego to you too, Garth.” He shook his head with a smile and hit the end button.

“What happened?” Henry asked.

“Garth was busy dealing with a ghost and it just burned up like he’d salted the bones,” Sam said. “No warning. Just gone.”

“Same time as the alarms,” Charlie said. Sam nodded. Charlie allowed herself a low whistle.

“Well, I think that means you did it,” she said. She looked around, confused again. “Wait, where did Gabriel go? Did he stay in Heaven?” Henry was saved from telling that particular story just yet by the appearance of Dean and Cas, and an unknown woman, in entryway.

“Thank you, Dariel,” Cas said softly. The woman nodded and disappeared with the whisper of wings. Henry looked around and saw no one else but the boys. He took in Cas’s sorrowful, bloodied face, and then looked at Dean. He was cold and distant, eyes red. There was a large gash down the front of his chin that was dripping. Lisa’s eyes widened.

“Guys, what happened up there?” Sam asked, not seeming to notice the missing figure just yet. “I mean, all the alarms went off, Garth’s ghost smoked out, apparently angels can fly again?” Cas looked at Sam and then to Dean. He continued to stare at the elder hunter as he answered.

“Metatron is dead,” he said. “Thank you for doing whatever it was that weakened him.” He added, still watching Dean. Henry swallowed. The room seemed to darken and stretch as Sam looked around and finally noticed the absence of someone important. Charlie and Sarah looked down and Henry heard a sniff from one of them. No. No, no, no. It couldn’t have happened. Sam’s face fell slightly and he shifted on his feet

“Where-where is Mom?” he asked, voice cracking. Dean looked up and met his eyes from across the room, broken panes of green glass and Sam collapsed into a nearby chair, his head falling into his hands with an exhale that sounded quite a lot like a sob.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Barton Hollow by The Civil Wars  
> To listen to a song I wrote while working on this piece which is supposed to be a lullaby from Mary to Dean, go here: http://goo.gl/CGTPPF


	14. I Am Going to Make It Through This Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end.

The bunker was quiet for a long time. Sure, their phones could receive calls again, but Henry had the feeling that Garth had sent out the word that the Winchesters were on leave, if only for a while. And, after all, no more angels to deal with. And souls were back on their way to Heaven without any more interference. So no one called.

Charlie left after a week. She had stayed to keep up the cheer, but it was hard. When she left, everyone was in so-so spirits. Not fantastic, but they were ok. The thing was, this wasn’t the first time they had lost Mary. Dean and Sam had been through it before. Sure, it wasn’t easy for them, but it wasn’t as hard as it might have been. And they got all those extra days, those extra weeks.

They recovered. Dean got through it, with Cas’s help. Henry got him to talk about it a bit. But, to everyone’s shock, Dean was probably the one who handled it the best. Maybe it was that Mary had spent so much time with him that night before. Maybe it was the fact that this time he got to say goodbye. Either way, he came out fine.

And life went on.

Sarah and Bess made the decision to stay in the bunker – at least, for a while. They hadn’t provided a move-out date yet, and that suited everyone just fine. Lisa and Ben left after a couple of days. Henry wasn’t sure what exactly went on between Lisa and Dean within that time, but the Braedens did leave on the promise of visiting occasionally. On the guarantee that Ben, at the very least, would not be a stranger.

Kevin seemed to be doing better, at the end of it all. With a bit of help from Sam, it looked like he might try to apply to go to school locally. It was a starting point, at the very least. Kevin Tran, advanced placement, actually going to college. And he was getting a new beginning, which was what he needed. Well, to be honest, wasn’t that what everyone needed?

 

* * *

 

“So, what are you going to do with life, Henry?” Dean asked. Winter had closed around the bunker like a blanket, leaving them trapped, but cozy. They sat in the kitchen together while Dean cooked dinner. Cas sat at the island reading a giant book that appeared to be in German and sipping a cup of coffee like he had been doing it his whole life. Three weeks since Metatron. Since Mary.

“What, are you kicking me out?” Henry asked. Dean smirked at him.

“Just a question,” Dean said. He shifted the pan in his hand around, the mushrooms and onions inside sizzling nicely. The smell in the room was dangerously good.

“Whatever I do, I’ll be glad to just be here,” Henry said. Cas smiled up at him from his book.

“Fine by me,” Dean said. He clicked off the burner on the stove and poured the contents on a plate next to the other stacks of prepared food. Cas stood up from his chair and moved behind Dean, lifting himself up on tiptoes to look over Dean’s shoulder and then resting his chin there.

“It smells delicious,” Cas said. Henry rolled his eyes.

“Thanks,” Dean grinned. He craned his neck around and planted a kiss on Cas’s lips. Henry shook his head and looked down at his own book that sat on the counter. They were never going to get any better, he should just accept that now. PDA was a fact of life that – unfortunately for everyone – was going to continue daily.

“Dinner’s ready!” Dean yelled loudly. Cas jumped, being so near to the loud noise, and then gave Dean a glare. Dean chuckled. “You two, help me move this stuff to the table.” Henry closed his book and went over to the opposite counter, grabbing food and moving it to the giant table across the room. People wandered into the warm, excellent-smelling kitchen shortly afterwards and settled in to regular seats, grabbing food off of the plates in the middle and off of each other’s.

There was laughing and teasing and storytelling. There was routine. A bit of love. But, most of all, there was family. Not the family Henry had been expecting. Oh, no. If someone had told him a year (or 55 years, depending on how you looked at it) ago that this was the group of people he would be eating dinner with? Yeah, Henry imagined he probably would have had them confined to a mental hospital. No, it was no the family Henry had imagined for himself. In fact, it was not the family anyone in the room ever thought they would end up with, but it was almost better that way. It was the family they chose.

Henry smiled at his grandsons. He smiled at Cas, at Kevin, at Sarah, and at little Bess. It was true, what he told Dean. He didn’t know what he was going to do with his life. Maybe he would work to become a better hunter. Maybe he would just do research in the bunker. Maybe he would consider going to school, like Kevin. Hey, it was a possibility. He really did want to learn about the future he was in. He wanted to interact with the world he was now a part of, not just stay locked up in the bunker from his own time. But, for now, he was happy he was there just to be living life. And that was more than enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from This Year by The Mountain Goats.  
> Very short final chapter, I know, but I felt that it finished everything up the way I wanted it to. And that's it. Thanks to everyone who has been following this story. Thanks to my friends who yelled at me to just keep writing when I was about to give up. Never would have finished without them. This fic started as an experiment, and a way to dedicate myself to writing something long, and I made it.  
> I want to say that this is not the end of my trip into the Henry Verse. There is more about Henry to be written, but perhaps not for a while. Thank you to everyone for reading!  
> To listen to a song I wrote while working on this piece which is supposed to be a lullaby from Mary to Dean, go here: http://goo.gl/CGTPPF  
> And feel free to follow me as well: http://preparetobemildlyentertained.tumblr.com/

**Author's Note:**

> To listen to a song I wrote while working on this piece which is supposed to be a lullaby from Mary to Dean, go here: http://goo.gl/CGTPPF


End file.
